Jovian Chronicles: The Thunderbolts of Jupiter
by Deathworm
Summary: Episode 11 is finally out. Sorry for the long delays, people! Busy with my school work and all . . . Anyway, in this episode, it's more about the men and women who make up the Olympian Thunderbolts! Enjoy!
1. History

A Brief History of the Solar System

**1772**

Lagrange theorizes the existence of the gravity points in Earth's orbit.

**1957**

Launch of Sputnik, first man-made satellite.

**1961 **

Yuri Gagarin is the first man in space

**1969  **

Apollo 11 lands on the Moon.

**1977**

Gerard O' Neill proposes the open-type space colony design.

**1982**

Launch of the first American space shuttle.

**1999**

Solar Power Satellite 1 test successful.

**2002 **

Freedom Station is launched.

**2007 **

Prototype fusion engine sustains reaction and generates power.

**2011 **

Trial flight of the Megaloader, the first true space cargo ship.

**2017 **

First Laser Launch System constructed at Cape Canaveral.

**2024 **

First permanent Moon base, Moon Base Alpha is established.

2026  

Artificial diamond composites marketed heralding an age of ultra-light construction for ships and space stations.

2028 

Alpha Base Massdriver on the Moon is used to fire large cargo sleds to Earth's Lagrange points where automated 'masscatchers' successfully intercept and stockpile the raw materials launched from the Moon. 

**2030 **

Construction of the orbital colonies in the pattern of the O' Neil cylinder begins. Island One, located at the L-5 Lagrange Point is open in November.

**2031  **

NASA/ESA Jupiter exploration ship Galileo II is launched.

**2033 **

The first Martian settlement, Burroughs City is constructed.

**2034**

First permanent mining base established on Mercury. Massdrivers based there begin hurling rocks at Venus.

**2037 **

Jovian Gas Mining Corp. is founded; Ironwheel Station built in Jovian orbit, heralding the age of the space companies.

**2038 **

Ares Corporation founded on Mars.

**2039**

Elysée is constructed and designated at the capital of the Jovian colonies, mostly concentrated around Ganymede. This collection of colonies is named Olympus. 

**2042**

Jovians, tired of the hectic life in Jupiter orbit, set up Newhome Station in the trailing Trojan Asteroids. Six weeks later, the Wunderlich Consortium sets up Vanguard Mountain station in the leading Trojan point. Thus the two Trojan States are born.

**2070 **

First Nomad settlements established in the Asteroid Belt.

**2072 **

Project New Earth officially begins, terraforming of Venus underway. Immense titanium fins are placed in the polar locations to cool down the planet.

**2080**

Social and environmental pressure collapses several nations. Massive exodus towards space begins.

**2081 **

Provisional Terran government takes refuge in space. The United Space Nations is formed. ****

**2082**

Vivarium-type colony cylinders are built in Jovian orbit. Larger and more space efficient, these stations are heavily shielded to protect their inhabitants from the high radiation around Jupiter.

**2085  **

Mars declares independence. There is little Earth can do to stop the Martians from doing so.

**2086**

First colonization of Venus. Many acrologies are constructed.

**2090**

Olympus, Vanguard Mountain and Newhome declare their independence from Earth.

**2091**

The Elysium War is fought on Mars when rebels opposing a new series of oppressive laws form the Martian Free Republic. The war is bloody and inconclusive and will not end until 2114.

**2092**

Captain Alfred Decker arrives in Newhome with much-needed supplies for the struggling nation, cementing ties between Olympus and Newhome. Decker will make a similar journey to Vanguard Mountain and open the way to stronger diplomatic relations.

**2093 **

All vestiges of authority on Earth falls along with their space faring capability and with it any control that they once had on the space colonies.****

**2100 **

Earth is isolated, rumors of disasters, plagues and civil wars. Jovian Armed Forces established.

**2113**

Away from the chaos of humanity, Olympus, Newhome and Vanguard Mountain come together to form the Jovian Confederation. It becomes the largest space nation in terms of size and territory.

**2120 – 2180**

Often referred to as the 'Tough Times'. Venus is busy settling down, Mars is wrought with civil conflicts while many of Jupiter's Trojan asteroids are dismantled to build new colony cylinders to house the burgeoning population.

**2121**

The Messenger's War on Mars begins when both the Federation and Republic fight over trade relations with Mercury. Once again inconclusive, the aftermath is significant for the Republic as Mercury becomes the first stellar nation of officially recognize the Republic as an independent nation and equal of the Federation.

**2135-2152**

This period of Martian history is referred to as the 'Thousand Little Wars', a low-intensity conflict characterized by countless raids on either side of the border though it was marked by a massive Republic offensive that captured significant amount of territory, doubling the size of the nation.

**2150s**

By merging exo-suit and tug technology, the Jovians become the first to field exo-armors, the giant robots of popular science fiction.

**2163**

The first true exo-armor enters service in the JAF****

**2168**

Known as the StaubSturmKrieg or 'The Dust Storm War', it lasted only6days. Intended to be the Federation's 'final offensive' against the Martian Free Republic, the campaign went very well with the Martian BundesArmee rolling over Republican defenders. But a massive dust storm swept through the war zone, effectively crippling the Federate offensive and causing them to pull back once the dust had settled.

**2170-2185**

Yet another turbulent period in Martian history, the Olympian War began when several domed cities around Olympus Mons defected to the Republic. Many battles were fought as the Federates sought to reclaim these cities. Both sides later found the war becoming to costly but the hatred was too great and when the Jovian Confederation opened an embassy in 2185, they were invited to help serve as a middle man. The war ended with a peace treaty and the Olympus Mons cities now under Republican control.

**2182 **

A collection of North American and European states forming the Union and win the Unification War on Earth in an effort to bring the whole planet under one flag. 

**2184 **

The Central Earth Government and Administration (CEGA) is founded. While it does not control the entire globe, it does administer to North America, Europe as well as significant portions of Africa and Asia.

**2185 **

Contacts are slowly resumed between the settlements

**2189**

Construction of the Martian Elevator begins. It is a grand structure that literally reaches to the heavens, allowing cheaper cargo transfer from the Martian surface into orbit. It is constructed with the combined resources of the Martian Federation and the Martian Free Republic and backed by the Venusians.

**2196**

The Martian Elevator is complete and a golden age of prosperity seems to begin for Mars.

**2200 **

Peace in the solar system

**2205 **

Commerce is dominated by the powerful Venusian Bank which has also begun to dabble into research violating the Edicts.

**2208 **

Venusian Bank agent Devon Malachai, while trying to kill a reporter who has discovered the Bank's illegal genetic research, deceives CEGA ships into opening fire a freighter and Jovian warships, marking the first time the two superpowers have exchanged fire. 

**2209**

Tensions in the Solar System are heightened, especially between the Jovian Confederation and the CEGA which has made no secret of its ambitions to reunite the Solar System under Earth's banner once more.

**Significant Recent Events**

**The Odyssey  **

Not much is known about the events collectively known as the Odyssey. Much of it remains a mystery even to the major intelligence networks of the stellar nations. This much is however, is known.

In 2208, Earth scientist Agram Peyarje began work on the Cyberlink Activated by Thoughts (CAT) system which would allow partial thought-control and bio-sensory feedback with machines and vehicles. The CEGA, realizing the military applications for such a system, conscripted him forcibly. A peaceful man, Peyarje succeeded in contacting the Jovian Confederation during a trip to scientific convention on Venus in 2210.

Not long after, four Jovian agents assist Dr. Peyarje in escaping from the CEGA. These Jovians were immediately and publicly branded as terrorists by the CEGA who made immediate attempts to pursue them.

The refugees hid on the Earth's moon and were offered sanctuary by one of the lunar independence groups. Thus followed the first of a string of great tragedies. A CEGA pursuit fleet destroyed the domed city of Copernicus in an effort to eliminate the Jovians along with the freedom fighters. Nearly two thousand civilians lost theirs lives in the attack and the aftermath was broadcast across the Solar System by a Solar Cross vessel, drawing condemnation from across the system.

The Jovians' next stop was Mars where they were assisted by the Free Republic. Despite being pursued by the CEGA, these small band attempted to prevent a terrorist attack against the Martian Elevator. But their efforts fail and Elevator is destroyed, resulting in the formation of the 'Vator Crater which stretches some 20, 800 km across the Martian equator. The CEGA have since placed the blame on the terrorist group STRIKE though both Martian governments are known to be conducting investigations of their own.

**Battle of Elysée**

In the wake of both tragedies, media support for the refugees allow them to return to Jovian space without fear of CEGA pursuit. But one CEGA Admiral by the name of Russel Kleb, refused to heed the stand down order and ordered his fleet to attack the Jovian capital of Elysée.

It is a great battle which results in nearly complete destruction of the CEGA fleet though losses amongst Jovian forces were heavy as well. The circumstances surrounding this battle are not clear though the CEGA has declared that Kleb's fleet had gone rogue.

There are rumors that Kleb had been under the influence of drugs and thus was not in control of his faculties at the time of the attack. General Avram Thorsen, commander of the JAF's Gamma Division has since been removed from command for allowing the CEGA fleet to approach unchallenged. 

While a full explanation of the Odyssey and the Battle of Elysée may never be known, one thing remains certain. The illusion of peace in the Solar System had been shattered and both the CEGA and the Jovian Confederation are both gearing up for the possibility of armed conflict against one another.

**Shattered Peace**

The fragile state of uneasy peace in the Solar System received yet another blow when an independent reporter by the name of Jennifer Mathur uncovers shocking video records implicating the Martian Free Republic in the sabotage and destruction of the Martian Elevator.

The Federation's response to this breakthrough in the ongoing investigations of the disaster was immediate. The peace that had been negotiated by the Jovians following the Olympian War had been strained by the elevator disaster along with the Republic's constant testing of the Federation's borders. 

The Martian Federation issued a formal statement to the United Space Nations in October 2212 demanding retribution for the economic and human losses that had resulted from the Elevator's destruction. The Republic's response was equally quick, its leaders denying responsibility and producing several 'culprits' for public vilification while bemoaning their own losses in the Elevator's fall.

The next few months saw no progress in diplomatic relations whatsoever and on February 2, 2213, the Martian Federation calmly informed the USN that it considered the Elevator's destruction as an act of war and expelled all Republican citizens from its borders. The very next day, the 9th and 17th Panzerobergruppen attacked and seized the mining outpost of Myers Dome in the Republic. War had come to Mars once more.

Present Day 

The following months have seen a great loss of territory in the Free Republic's west side, particularly in the Syrtis region. Large numbers of refugees have begun to flee the front, going deeper into the Republic or fleeing to the orbital platforms where an uneasy peace still exists.

On April 14, 2213 the Jovian Armed Forces dispatches a peacekeeping force for Mars. On May 17 the CEGA deploys a fleet of its own for the same purpose. Additional Jovian forces will depart from the Trojan State of Newhome on 23 May, also headed for Mars.

On June 2, Councilor Ignatius Chang of the CEGA, distressed by deteriorating relations between the Jovian Confederation and his government, leaves Earth on a priority ship to Jupiter to attend the upcoming Jovian Centennial Celebration. He hopes that he will get the opportunity to speak to Jovian President Alexandra Itangre and smooth out the rising tensions between the two superpowers.

On June 27, the CEGA Fleet arrives at Mars. It is followed by the JAF fleet on July 24 with its reinforcements from Newhome arriving on August 14. The day after, Ignatius Chang arrives on Jupiter in the midst of the preparations for the 100th anniversary of the Jovian Confederation's formation. Councilor Chang is relieved that despite chilly relations between the two nations, President Itangre is open to reducing the tensions between their nations.

By now, the peacekeeping forces over Mars are busy keeping the conflict contained on the planet's surface. But both the JAF and CEGA forces realize that there is little they can do if the Martians choose to bring the war up into space. 

JAF troops, under strict orders to avoid conflict, have already landed on Mars and are assisting in escorting Republican non-combatants out of the war zone. Meanwhile, the CEGA watches as its sometimes ally, the Federation conquers city after city in the Republic. Despite the severity of the Republican situation on Mars, the Jovian ships in orbit are preparing for the Centennial Celebrations as the exigencies of service permit.

A large number of face-offs and close passes have already taken place between the JAF and CEGA Navy and this brinkmanship has only increased with the presence of Jovian forces headed planetside. 

On August 29, the Martian Free Republic manages to launch a counteroffensive aimed at the Federation's capital, Kurtzenheim, effectively opening a second front to the ground war. At the same time, both sides become acutely aware of the importance of their orbital facilities and exo armors from both sides take to the skies where fighting erupts in and around the orbitals. 

Both peacekeeping forces, tasked with the preservation of these facilities, move in, deploying exo armors of their own to monitor the situation and attempt to contain the fighting in space. It is dawn on August 30 and the Battle of Kurtzenheim is underway. But no one believes that it is anything more than just another battle of thousands that has been fought since the day Man came to the Red Planet. 

But as the battle rages in space and the two peacekeeping forces watch the fratricidal conflict between the two Martian nations, no one can imagine how push can rapidly turn to shove and that the greatest human tragedy since the fall of the Martian Elevator is just about to unfold . . .


	2. Episode One: Blitzkrieg

The Battle of Kurtzenheim #1

**Episode One: _Blitzkrieg_**

"Ob's stürmt oder schneit, ob die Sonne uns lacht,  
Der Tag glühend heiß, oder eiskalt die Nacht,  
Bestaubt sind die Gesichter, doch froh ist unser Sinn - ja unser Sinn:  
Es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin!"

(In blizzard or storm, or in sun warm and bright,  
The day hot as hell or bone-chilling be the night,  
Our faces may with dust be laid, But spirits never fade - no, never fade;  
Relentless, our tank thunders out on a raid.)

-First Stanza,_ der Panzerlied_-

0528 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Red alert! Red alert! All pilots man your exos! All pilots man your exos!" The mournful blast of sound that followed was strident enough to rouse even the deepest of sleepers from their slumber.

"Aw, shit . . ."  Hauptmann Peter Tan, Executive Officer of the Twelfth _Sturmobergrupen__,_ Martian BundesArmee spilled out of his warm bed and onto the floor as the raucously overpowering siren tore through any haze of drowsiness that had lingered in his brain.

Scrabbling off the icy cold floor, he tore open the door to his equipment locker and reached for his combat environmental suit that hung inside. Months of combat experience had seen to it that he was now able to change out of his sleeping clothes and into his combat suit in less than thirty seconds.

Outside his quarters, the others in his unit were already streaming down the corridors of the Officer's Barracks and out towards the exo-armor hangars. He pulled on his helmet, ensured that he had a proper seal and started for the doorway.

Major Hessler, the _Sturmobergrupen__ kommander_ came running up the corridor towards him, his helmet already on.

"What's going on, sir?"

"The capital is coming under attack by those damned Republicans!" Hessler said, pushing Peter along as he came up. 

"Kurtzenheim?" The Hauptmann looked over as his commander in surprise. "I thought the reports last night indicated only sporadic probing actions in the vicinities of Dreyfuss and Hell Station?"

"Well, those reports were wrong, Hauptmann." Hessler retorted as they bolted into the thin Martian atmosphere, sprinting across the tarmac towards the exo-armor hangars that lay no more than a hundred meters away. Despite the mournful tones of the base siren system and the protective helmets that they wore over their heads, they could still make out the warning buzzers as the various hangars cleared for action. "Now we know that they are coming in force and they're headed right for the capital in unknown strength. From what I'm told, we've got dozens of breaks in the line between Dreyfuss and Hell Station!"

_And to think that we were told that the __Free__Republic__ was on the ropes_. Peter did not verbalize that sentiment as they reached the hangars. He had learnt a long time ago that one could not always trust what the government told them. The months spent fighting the Republic had only served to show him just how right his opinions were of his homeland.

Born as a _Fachleute_, or the specialist caste, his education had been different from the _Verbundeten_ or Federates who made up the bulk of the Federation's population. With better education had come enlightenment and Peter was not one to consider himself blind to the oppressive regime of his parent state.

He was sick of fighting the Martian Free Republic. To him, they were just fellow Martians like him, choosing a different lifestyle from that of the Federation. It didn't help that the reasons for this war had been so 'convincingly' presented to them by the Ministry of Truth and a heavy propaganda campaign had been waged prior to the commencement of hostilities.

Thoughts like those were dangerous in the Federation. People had been called up for 'questioning' for expressing far less. And being in the BundesArmee made such opinions all the more dangerous since he fell under the jurisdiction of military law.

"Hauptmann! Are you listening to me?"

Peter shook himself and looked over at his commander. The other _grupen_ commanders were gathered around in a circle now. Not many of the original faces were left. Countless ambushes by the ever-efficient Republican guerilla-like Martian Free Rangers had seen to that.

"_Jawohl_, Herr Major!" He answered automatically, snapping out of his reverie.

"We will be heading into an unknown situation here." Hessler said to all of them. "So far, it appears that it's an all-out offensive aimed at reaching Kurtzenheim. It's not their typical guerilla action so I want you all to be careful out there."

_We_'_ve always been _. . .  _At least I've always been_ . . . Peter wanted to say but he chose instead to remain silent. His mind was already whirling. The enemy was advancing in force. Perhaps this was his opportunity. There would be a great battle, much confusion. A single exo-pilot can simply disappear without anyone noticing . . .

"We'll be heading west to reinforce the 51st _Panzerobergrupen_. Tell your people to stay sharp." Hessler continued. "There have been reports of the enemy deploying some new type of hovertank in the area so keep your eyes open. If there are no questions, suit up and follow me."

No one spoke and as soon as Hessler turned, the others made off to their waiting exo-armors. Peter's MEAM-01 _Defender_ _Camel_ was a variant of the original Jovian design which had been considered state-of-the-art in its heyday.

Now, this 16.9-meter-tall war machine was one of the most advanced pieces of Federation combat equipment. The _Camel _variant gave up its space-going capabilities and replaced the original beam cannon with a mass driver rifle and had filters built to make the whole exo-armor more durable in Martian surface combat.

His maintenance crew said nothing as he approached. The base siren was still wailing and by now, it seemed like every light on the base was blazing and every soul was up and moving. Exchanging a curt nod with his maintenance chief, Hauptmann Peter Tan scrambled up the access ladder and into the chest cavity of his bulky, humanoid war machine. 

Even as he settled into the exo's linear frame which would allow the exo-armor to replicate his every move, he found the words of an ancient poem coming to mind. _Those I fight, I do not hate. Those I defend, I do not love_ . . .

_Well, not exactly_, he corrected himself as the cockpit closed up around him and the various instrument panels came on. His love for the Federation had died a long time ago. The Republic seemed like the only place for him to go now. But Kurtzenheim was still his birthplace and home to hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians. _And I will defend my home first_ . . . _even if I don't believe in my country anymore_.

Moments later, his _Defender Camel _took its first tentative step forward, the tarmac absorbing the impact of his 51-ton monster. All across the base, the rest of the 12th _Sturmobergrupen_ was beginning to stir, armor-shod feet pounding in rhythm as exo after exo set course for the war front . . . wherever that was now.

1036 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Mars. The Red Planet. For centuries, it had been a place of awe and mystery to scientist and writer alike. Always imagined as the one place in the Solar System where signs of life would be found, the Martians of today were a far cry from the variety that pervaded popular fiction so many years ago.

But that didn't make the present Martians any less bloodthirsty than the aliens of yesteryear's imagination. Captain Andy Ho, commanding officer of the JSS _Falchion_ grimaced at the thought. His _Forge_-class patrol carrier had been one of the many that made up the Jovian peacekeeping force that hung idyllically in space, watching the planetary civil war from afar.

It had been almost thirty years since the Martians fought their last war. And he had only been a teenager when the Olympian War was finally brought to a close with the help of Jovian peace brokers, something that he remained incredibly proud off. _Today_, _I provide_ _the big stick which powers interplanetary diplomacy_, he smiled as he looked around the bridge of his carrier. _Strange_ . . . _there was an ancient Earth term_ . . ._ gunboat diplomacy_ . . . _maintaining the peace through the show of force_.

"Skipper, it's looks like we've got a situation developing here." The sensor operator on duty said suddenly. There was a pause as the sensor operator manipulated the controls at his workstation. "Yes, they're definitely going at each other again."

Captain Ho looked at the sensor repeater window that was display against the domed ceiling of the carrier's bridge. Several clusters of blips were swarming up from the planet. Green represented Republican exos, yellow was reserved for the Federation's craft. Further off, almost on the other edge of the screen were the first red blips of the CEGA's peacekeeping force.

It was strange seeing them in red. After all, it was always a color used to denote enemy craft. The Jovian Confederation and the CEGA weren't exactly enemies despite the numerous shooting incidents between the two nations. But they weren't exactly friends either. Especially after what had happened in the Battle of Elysée There had been more cases of brinkmanship that he would have liked since the two large fleets took up position in the vicinity of Mars.

"Looks like they're fighting over the orbitals again. Republicans attacking the Feds, from the looks of it?" Andy looked at the sensor operator for confirmation.

"That's an affirmative. Looks like twenty or so Republican exos with support against twenty-five Feds. Mostly _Explorers _and _Defenders _out there." There was a pause. "I'm picking up fighters too. Forty plus from both sides in all."

Andy felt his hands balling up into fists. Once again the Martians were taking their fight up into space. Both fleets had orders to keep the fighting limited to the ground, but without authorization to shoot first, there was very little any one could do to really separate the two belligerents. And besides, the space combats have always been small and inconclusive, with negligible collateral damage.

But today's battle seemed a little larger and it was the first time the Republic was attacking. Word from Mars had it that the Republic was also on the move in the Pavonia Principality, where the Federation capital was located. Maybe it would do to watch this battle a little closer . . .

"Captain," It was the comm operator who spoke now. "Orders from the Admiral Sullivan."

Admiral Gordo Sullivan was the overall commander of the Jovian force, 'flying his lights' off the _Gilgamesh_ which served as his flagship and mobile command post.

"Yes, Corporal?"

"Captain, message reads: 'The fleet will advance on the battle zone.'"

So Sullivan was thinking the same thing, Andy nodded. "Very well. Acknowledge our receipt of the message. Helm, standby to maneuver on the flagship's command."

"Aye, Skipper."

Captain Andy Ho leaned back and waited. It would take time to coordinate a move with a fleet this large. Disturbingly, he noticed the white blip of a Solar Cross vessel drifting uncomfortably close to the battle zone. 

Then the call to move was given and the entire Jovian peacekeeping force lit its thrusters as one and began crawling towards the raging space battle. Minutes later, the CEGA fleet was doing the same thing.

1043 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Lancelot, Lancelot, this is Camelot."

Warrant Officer (O) Adelene Chan had almost dozed in the cockpit of her fighter when the comm specialist aboard the JSS _Vigilant _called out to her, so boring had been her patrol thus far.

Blinking the drowsiness out of her eyes, she keyed the 'transmit' stud on her throttle lever and replied, hoping that she didn't sound too bored. "Camelot, this is Lancelot One. Standing by."

"Copy that, Lancelot One. We have new instructions for you," the comm spec's tone was a little too crisp and lively for Adelene's liking. "Uploading new coordinates to your navigation computer now."

"Roger that." She glanced at her instruments and saw the new navigational data being updated to her nav comp. "What gives, Camelot?" 

"Looks like the Martians are having quite a scrap around the orbital platforms again," came the seemingly overly-cheerful reply. "A pretty big one this time from the looks of it. The fleet is closing in to keep tabs on the situation."

"And so they want us up close where the action is to keep an eye on things?"

"That's _ah_-firmative, Lancelot One," the comm spec drawled. Then he added as if it was of no consequence at all. "Ah, be advised that the CEGA fleet is also closing in on the conflict zone. It might get a little crowded when you get there."

"Copy that." _Terrific_ . . .Adelene groaned. She had tangled with CEGA exo armors and fighters before, even shot a couple down in the past. But the higher-ups had been very apt in driving into their minds that the CEGA was not their enemy this time. Not in Martian orbit. Not when the inhabitants of the Red Planet were trying to eradicate one another. This time, the JAF was here to keep the peace.

_What kind of peacekeeping mission is this_? Adelene had found herself asking that question very often and it bothered her that she had not found the answer after so many weeks on station. She had never been on any other peacekeeping mission prior to this one but if the current one was anything to go by, then the term was an oxymoron.

In the time that she had spent flying her _Intruder_ fighter in the space around Mars, she had found herself going head to head more often with CEGA 'peacekeepers' than actually helping to preserve the peace in the orbital facilities around the Red Planet.

What few opportunities they had to 'preserve the peace' were often lost due to restrictive rules of engagement and tactical indecision by her superiors. Today looked like it would be no different. 

They would be ordered into position to observe the battle between the Federates and the Republicans, forming a 'security cordon', which they had no real power to enforce. If either side tried to break out, they could do so and even take potshots at the Jovians if they wanted. And in the meantime, the orbitals would probably take another pounding and more innocents would die while she and her fellow peacekeepers would watch from a useless distance once more. 

"Ah, Lancelot One, be advised that we have multiple patrols vectoring into the area to monitor the situation. Martian forces are estimated at about forty-plus exo armors with maybe another forty-plus fighters. No sign of warships from either side yet."

Adelene blew a low whistle at those figures. Now that was what she would call a really big battle. The Martians had never thrown so much hardware into space in all the time that the peacekeeping fleets were in orbit. Something was definitely up.

"Two, you with me?" Adelene said to her wingman.

"Roger, One." Corporal Winters, her wingman for the day's patrol, answered excitedly. "Lead the way, ma'am!"

Adelene did not reply. Instead, she rolled her fighter onto the new course projected by her nav computer and kicked in with her thrusters, accelerating towards the trouble spot. On her radar screen, she could see that several other patrol pairs comprising of fighters and exo armors alike were beginning to head in the same direction.

1050 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Plodding along at thirty-six kilometers per hour, Peter had grown increasingly edgy. There had been no sign of war when the sun rose over them. He had half-expected to be ambushed at dawn but nothing had happened and hour after hour of monotonous trekking had followed.

For all its speed and maneuverability in space, the exo armor was nothing more than a lumbering humanoid robot on the ground. The radio communications from the front had grown fewer and fewer in between as they had gotten closer. And most of the reports didn't make sense, painting a very confused picture of the situation in the area between the Republican border and the 12th _Strumobergrupen_. 

Less than an hour ago, they had spotted the first palls of smoke in the distance. And they had spent the intervening time moving ever closer to the war zone. The smoke had been a grim reminder that despite the isolation of the red plains, there was still a war going on.

There was a chiming alert in his headset and Peter's eyes flashed to his pop up radar display. "Major, I'm picking up several sensor contacts ahead."

"I have them too, Hauptmann," his commander replied. "All units, this is Hessler. Incoming bogeys on radar. Standby for action. Hold your fire until I give the order!"

Peter felt his heart pounding away as the unknown blips crawled across the circular radar display, moving towards the center point, which represented his exo. _Should be in visual range any moment now_. He toggled on his telescopic sights and a pop-up window appeared on his HUD, showing him the ridgeline ahead in magnified detail. The smoke and dust clouds had gotten more intense now. 

"I have them!" Someone exclaimed excitedly over the radio. "They're ours!"

Peter scanned the ridgeline again and picked up the barely recognizable shapes that were spilling over the ridge and speeding towards them. Abdiel hovertanks. Perhaps barely enough to form three _grupen_. Many of them in bad shape; some missing turrets, others simply holed like a sieve. He zoomed in on the unit insignia painted onto the turret of one of the more intact tanks. They had found the 51st _Panzerobergrupen_.

"Confirmed, _Herr _Major. Incoming tanks are friendly."

As they got closer, the extent of the damage was fully apparent. Some of the tanks shouldn't have even been mobile at all. And these were Abdiel tanks he was looking at, the pride of the BundesArmee's _Panzergrupen_. _What could the Republicans possibly have that can smash so many of our tanks_?

The retreating tanks were passing by now, not even stopping to communicate. Peter knew panic when he saw it and the erratic way in which several tanks were fleeing the ridge was a clear indication. _Just what the hell do we have ahead_? Peter felt a chill running down his spine. The enemy had to be very close now.

"More incoming bogeys!" Someone shouted excitedly. "Moving very fast!"

Peter stared at his radar display and felt his blood run cold. His sensors were registering an approach speed in access of four hundred kilometers per hour, flying nape of the earth. _Air strike_ . . . He felt himself going weak in the knees. Though few in numbers, the Republican Ranger Air Service was very adept at ground support missions. He raised his _Defender_'s railgun tentatively, hoping that he was wrong, but not ready to just rely on that hope.

"Incoming . . . visual range . . ." someone chanted.

_Now_! Peter swung his exo at where he expected to see the incoming craft appear.

"_Mein__ gott_!" Another exo-pilot exclaimed in surprise.

Gliding . . .no, _flying _over the ridgeline and at them were the thin, deadly wedge-shaped vehicles that were akin to flying saucers, except more angular . . . and with turrets sporting what looked very much like railguns. Peter's jaw dropped open in surprise. He wanted to believe that he was staring at hovertanks. But no hovertank could move at four hundred kilometers an hour and move the way they were moving now.

Railgun slugs were slashing towards the Federate exo armors, whose pilots stood gaping at the newcomers now. Then the 'hovertanks' were clawing for altitude, rising further off the Martian surface and literally taking to the skies. He could hardly believe his eyes as he saw one 'tank' heading towards him, tiny doors opening from its belly. A pair of deadly shapes popped out and there was a flash as each one ignited. 

"Weapons free! Weapons free! All units engage the tanks!" their commander was speaking now, sounding as if he was waking from a bad dream.

"That's if you can even call them tanks!" somebody jibed.

"Cut the chatter! All units, defensive formation. Peter, take your _grupen_. You are our left flank!" Hessler snapped. "Walter, you have the ri . . ."

Major Hessler's voice was cut off with sickening abruptness and Peter turned his _Defender_ instinctively to face the commander's exo. Hessler's _Defender_ was hardly recognizable now. Its back was tore open and on fire, large chunks of armor peeling off. Peter winced as another missile buried itself into the burning exo. Several other exo armors had been hit and were going down as well.

"All units, all units. This is the XO. The Major is down." Peter said, fighting the growing lump in his throat. "Pull back! Pull back! All units withdraw! Head for cover and return fire!"

The Republicans had caught them in an open plain and were flying rings around them. Peter picked out one of the blindingly fast flying tanks. Working his linear frame, he brought up his railgun, adjusted the targeting reticule, waited for it to go red and fired.

A ten-kilogram metal slug crossed the distance in the blink of an eye and impacted spectacularly against the tank's side, sending shards of armor splashing in every direction. A moment later, the tank had spiraled out of control and into the ground. 

_So you guys can be beaten_ . . .Peter thought to himself, smiling grimly. But he knew the odds certainly weren't in his favor today. 

1109 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Federate exos are withdrawing in disarray, Captain." 

Captain Andy Ho didn't really need to be told that since he could see the action the sensor repeated display projected before him. He had watched the battle raging before him, represented only by light symbols. Several of the orbital platforms had taken some hits in the fighting. Andy had watched as green and yellow blips had vanished from the display, each one marking the passing of an exo or fighter and quite likely the pilot as well.

And now the Federates had been beaten by the Republican force and it had disintegrated into smaller groups which were fleeing from the victors. His attention was drawn to a small group of yellow blips.

"Are those exos headed where I think they're headed?" Ho asked, highlighting the group of blips from his console.

There was a pause as the navigator did the geometry based on the data received from the sensor operator. "Captain, those Federates are headed for the Solar Cross ship."

"God, get them out of there!" Ho gasped. The Solar Cross (which was the modern day equivalent of the now defunct Red Cross) vessel, _Nightingale_ had been hovering at the edge of the battle ever since it started, apparently waiting for the dust to settle before moving in to conduct search and rescue operations.

"Federate exos now entering safe zone." The sensor operator's report told Andy that it was too late to warn the _Nightingale _off. The Federate exo armors had entered the 100-km safe zone that was a standard for all Solar Cross vessels. While it wasn't wrong to take refuge in this zone, it hadn't been done in a major conflict before so even now her neutral status was pretty much in doubt. The captain of the _Falchion_ stared at the radar repeater window. _If the Republicans pursue _. . .

"Captain, the Republican exos are entering the safe zone in pursuit of the Federate craft."

"Damn it! What the hell are they doing?" Andy leaned forward against the restraints of his command chair. "It's a bloody safe zone! What are they thinking?"

He felt his stomach twisting into an icy knot. A hundred kilometers was not a great distance in space. If the exos from either side were to fire within the safe zone, disaster would be inevitable . . .

1114 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

 "Damn! What do the think they're doing?" Adelene said aloud as she watched the action unfolding ahead of her. A trio of Federate _Defenders _were trying to escape from a quintet of Republican _Explorer_ exos. And they were doing it all practically right next to a Solar Cross vessel.

She noticed that a pair of CEGA _Wraith _fighters were showing an equal interest in the drama playing out before them. The Federate exos were dancing around the Solar Cross ship which sat serenely in the middle of it all, seemingly oblivious to the danger.

"Ma'am, the Republicans . . .!" Corporal Winters cried out.

"No, shit!" Adelene gasped as the saw missiles separating, their fiery trails unraveling as they curled after their targets. The three damaged _Defenders _wove and dodged but it wasn't enough. 

Two of the _Defenders_ died before they could shake the missiles unleashed against them. The last Federate craft manage to avoid the initial salvo but as follow up missiles screamed in, its pilot threw the machine into an intricate series of maneuvers around the _Nightingale_.

The Republicans closed in, engaging with their railguns. The lone _Defender _returned fire with its missiles. Dozens of explosions boiled in the deathly cold silence of space, the blasts obscuring even the massive _Nightingale _for several heartbeats.

"Oh, God . . ." Winters gasped as soon as the explosions had dissipated. One Republican _Explorer_ was gone, as was the last Federate _Defender_.

But those were not the only casualties in this latest exchange of fire. _Nightingale _was rolling awkwardly onto its side, leaking atmosphere and shedding debris from a quartet of jagged punctures in its thin hull.

1122 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Captain Alvin Ng was young for his rank. It had been earned in numerous combat actions, which included the Battle of Elysée and the Europa Incident where he fought opponents ranging from Seraphim terrorists to regular CEGA Navy Forces. 

Now, the commander of the famed 'Deathwing' exo squadron propelled himself off the deck and floated up to the open cockpit of his _Retaliator _CT in the hangar bay's microgravity, using the occasional handhold to propel himself further up towards his exo's cockpit. The deckhands were floating about his war machine, performing last minute checks even as he reached the gaping maw that served as his entry point to his command variant of the EAM-03 _Retaliator_ exo. 

He saw an ordnance specialist standing on the right shoulder of his exo armor, pulling out the arming pins for each one of his missiles. Another deckhand was sealing the loading hatch for his exo's railgun ammunition feed. To him, the deckhands aboard the JSS _Facilitator_ were always something special. They moved with cat-like grace in the null-gravity of the hangar deck, never taking a wrong step, never showing confusion even under chaotic situations.

_How many times have I done this since coming to Mars_? He didn't know the answer. The order had simply come down for all pilots to suit up and stand by for launch and that was exactly what he was doing now. Gripping a conveniently place handgrip, he hauled himself up the last part of the way, rotating himself in midair and sliding into the cockpit cavity of his exo. 

Slipping himself legs-first into the body-encompassing linear frame took less than ten seconds. He had done it so many times in the past that he could do it in his sleep. Since it was his personal exo armor, there was no need to readjust the frame once he put his feet in the restraints. Pulling the yellow and black striped bar, the hydraulics closed the cockpit hatch over him, sealing him beneath a layer of thick armor. 

"This is Deathwing Leader," he began, as the screens and displays all flashed to life before his eyes. "All set and ready to launch."

"Copy that, Deathwing Leader, hold." _Facilitator_'s Tactical Officer replied. "We have a situation developing. The Solar Cross vessel, _Nightingale _was hit when Republican and Federate forces were fighting in within its safe zone."

"Damn . . ." was all he could say.

"We have forces on hand attempting to defuse the situation now. Fleet command has ordered additional units into the area," the Tactical Officer went on. "We're putting your squadron on standby just in case you're needed, sir. Stand by for additional."

"I copy that, Tac. Keep me posted." And then Captain Alvin Ng, commander of the Deathwings aboard the JSS _Facilitator_ leaned back into his linear frame and waited.

1128 HOURS – AUGUST 30, 2213 

Adelene wasn't sure what had happened that August morning. And even after it was all over, she was afraid she'd never be certain even with the benefit of hindsight.

There had been a lot of shouting over the airwaves as Jovian, Earth and Martian squadron leaders had hurled angry accusations at one another. Both Jovian and Earth forces were maneuvering constantly in order to prevent the Republican forces from fleeing and Adelene knew they were going to keep doing it until guilt for attacking the _Nightingale _could be ascertained. Guilt that she knew was unfortunately the Republicans' to bear. 

But more Republican exos and fighter were closing in now, as were several Federate craft. The space around the Solar Cross vessel was already unbelievably congested. The Republican exo pilots who had opened fire and hit the _Nightingale_ were hurling expletives at the peacekeepers for obstructing their way now and the situation was really breaking down. 

And it was about then when tempers reached the boiling point and the unthinkable happened. One moment, Adelene had been looking over her shoulder, giving a pair of CEGA _Wraiths_ a wider berth while trying to keep a Republican _Explorer_ boxed in. But when she looked forward again, the radio erupted with a cacophony of excited shouts and she saw lasers, particle beams, missiles and railgun slugs slashing in all every direction. 

"What the . . .?" She didn't manage to complete the sentence as she instinctively rolled out of the way of a stream of particle accelerator beams. A quick look back at the source of the incoming shots told her that the CEGA _Wraiths _that she had been trying to avoid were attacking her. _But why . . ._?

"Damn it, they're engaging us!" someone shouted

"Weapons free! Weapons free! Let's go get them!" 

"No, wait! _Hold your fire_, damn it!"

_Chaos_! Adelene thought as she maneuvered her fighter wildly to dodge another barrage that was being directed at her. Someone had opened fire first, but she had no idea who. All that she knew was that some squadron leaders were calling for their pilots to cease fire while many others were ordering their pilots to engage. _But engage who_? 

"Two!"

"Yes, ma'am?" Winters replied almost instantly.

"Stick to me like glue! We're getting out of this mess!" 

"Roger, I'm . . ." That sentence was never completed. Instead, a harsh burst of static filled Adelene's ears. Looking over her shoulder at where he wingman was supposed to be, all she could see was an expanding sphere of incandescent gases and debris. 

"_Two_!"

1130 HOURS – AUGUST 30, 2213 

_Chaos_! Captain Andy Ho knew he wasn't the only one to harbor that thought as he watched the situation degenerate before his very eyes. There was a good-sized melee taking place around the _Nightingale_ now. And _everyone_ was shooting at _everybody_.

Good Lord, has the universe gone insane? Andy gasped as he saw several blips vanishing from the screen. Some were the yellow and green of the Martian forces. Others were red – CEGA craft. But inevitably, some of the vanishing symbols were in the blue of the Jovian Armed Forces. 

He knew he could not possibly hesitate now. There were no orders coming from above, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from using his initiative now.

"Sound General Quarters." He told his bridge crew. "Red alert. Launch all exos! _Go_!"

A heartbeat later, every overhead speaker aboard the JSS _Falchion _was blaring the same message: "Red Alert! Red Alert! General Quarters, General Quarters! All crew to Battle Stations!"

1132 HOURS – AUGUST 30, 2213 

"Deathwings! You are go for launch!" The deck commander of the _Facilitator_ was saying as the airlock door to the launch bay began to crack open.

Looking straight up, Captain Alvin Ng could see the star-filled void beckoning invitingly to him. He wriggled slightly in his linear frame to make sure he was comfortable but there wasn't any need since the frame had already been calibrated to his body shape and size.

"This is Deathwing Leader, standing by." 

"Copy that, Deathwing Leader. Stand by for launch."

The exo pilot stared intently at the launch bay exit. His reactor had been up and running ever since he had climbed into his machine and his thrusters were on standby now. With his hands, he gripped the twin joysticks that would give him flight and weapons control braced himself for the impact that was sure to come.

The doors were fully open now and all his systems were still showing green. He nudged his throttles forward and felt the mechanical whine sounding in his ears and the mild throb of power as his thrusters flared. Pleased at what he saw on his status displays, he called up the Deck Commander again. "All systems green. Ready to go."

"Affirmative, Deathwing Leader. Good luck and goodbye."

The light atop the airlock exit went from red to green and Alvin felt a tremendous kick in his rear as the magnetic catapult fired, shoving his forty-two-ton exo armor towards the launch bay exit. He waited until the walls of the launch bay and slipped past him before he fired up the main thrusters, which delivered a kick of some 80,000 kilograms of thrust combined.

He let out a grunt as the force of acceleration threatened to force him back through the linear frame. Then, satisfied that he was clear of the _Facilitator_, he looked around and noted that the rest of the squadron was already coming up rapidly to join him.

"Deathwing Leader, your callsign for this mission is Excalibur. _Facilitator_ will be Scabbard. Acknowledge, please." The Tactical Officer said.

"Roger. Excalibur One acknowledges, Scabbard." 

"Mission profile is as follows: You are to join other exo squadrons in forming a defensive cordon between the _Nightingale_ and the CEGA fleet. Your mission will be to prevent any additional CEGA forces to entering the area around the _Nightingale_ until we are able to restore the situation there."

"Rules of engagement?" 

"Same as before. Do not fire until fired upon."

"Roger that, Scabbard. The Deathwings are on the way."

1134 HOURS – AUGUST 30, 2213 

All across the Jovian peacekeeping force, crews were rushing to their stations. Weapons emplacements were manned and point defense systems were turned to standby while live ammunition was loaded in anticipation of hostilities.

Bulkheads were sealed and non-essential sections were depressurized to minimize the damage in the event of a hull breach. Medics stood by with their kits, ready to go into action should they be required while damage control teams waited at their stations with their wide range of repair gear.

As the ships of the fleet prepare themselves for combat, everyone who could see watched with bated breath as the armada of exo-armors and fighters crossed the distance between the fleets.

1140 HOURS – AUGUST 30, 2213 

 _How the hell are we supposed to stop the CEGA from sending reinforcements into the combat zone_? Alvin frowned as they closed in on the CEGA fleet. It was the largest formation he had ever flown in with dozens upon dozens of exo armors and fighters flying shoulder-to-shoulder and wingtip-to-wingtip with one another.

The battle was still raging around the Solar Cross vessel and he had found it very hard to restrain himself from flying in to lend a hand to his beleaguered comrades. Indeed, at least two squadrons had already broken off to lend their assistance. _Adding fuel to the fire more likely, _Alvin thought grimly as he passed the battle raging 'below' him.

He could see CEGA exos rising up to meet them now. Unlike the Jovian fleet, the Earth fleet was splitting up into smaller groups now. It was a CEGA textbook tactic against massed exo strikes. Sure, that meant that whichever got hit by the massed strike was as good as dead, but there was also the chance that the Jovian commanders might get greedy and order strikes against each group, diluting the firepower of such a massive attack.

But that was all based on the assumption that the Jovians were committed to attacking. Which they weren't. And their reaction disturbed Alvin somewhat. _But then_, _we're heading towards them with the largest formation of exos ever assembled_. _How can I expect them to react normally_?

He tried to count the CEGA exos on his sensors. They weren't advancing at the moment. Instead, they hovered near their motherships in gaggles, apparently waiting for further instructions. Glancing at his navigational display, he noted that he was fast approaching the imaginary line which the Jovian exos had been ordered not to cross. He felt somewhat uncomfortable about that since it was very close to the edge of the CEGA weapons envelopes.

They were just seconds away from stopping when the first shots came. Lasers and KKC rounds mostly. At such range, there was almost no chance of a hit and most of the shots were going over or under them. _Warning shots_, he thought to himself. _Coming up on the 'border' now_ . . .

"CEGA vessels are advancing." Someone reported and true enough, the scattered task forces of the CEGA fleet were beginning to advance as one.

"All Deathwings standby to decelerate . . ." Alvin told his pilots over the comm channel. "Now!"

Then something very strange happened. Almost half the exos hit their reverse thrusters in an effort to decelerate. But the others ploughed on, accelerating through the 'warning shots' that were getting closer and closer.

_No_ . . . Alvin gasped in horror. Apparently, several squadron leaders were none to happy about the CEGA ships taking potshots at them and were beginning to accelerate towards the warships at overthrust. _They've _got_ to be faking a lightning strike_ . . . Alvin told himself, referring to the common exo tactic of rushing a target head-on at maximum acceleration and cutting loose with all weapons in a single devastating salvo during a very narrow window of opportunity. _But they won't know if we're faking or not_, a voice in the back of his head told him quietly.

The first exo squadron made it through the defenses of one of the task forces without damage to itself, their craft screaming down the lengths of the CEGA ships' hulls before peeling off. Other squadrons were moving in now, cutting through gaps in CEGA exo formations to get at the ships despite the warning shots. 

And then someone must have panicked since the warning shots were no longer fired deliberately to miss. Alvin saw a flash, his optical magnification told him that it _was_ a _Pathfinder _Alpha. And then every gun and exo in the CEGA fleet was firing at the incoming exos.

"Oh, God, no . . ." Alvin gasped as laser beams stabbed out towards him and his squadronmates. A stream of KKC rounds perforated a _Retaliator_ from another squadron flying near to him and it tumbled away, streaming air from its mangled cockpit.

Others were opening fire now and space became a maelstrom of weapons fire as the lines of exos collided into one another. As much as Alvin wanted to take control of the situation, things had spiraled completely out of hand now.

About a minute later, both fleets were beginning to exchange long-range salvos with one another as they applied thrust to close with one another. The Battle of Kurtzenheim had just flared beyond what its Martian planners had foreseen. 


	3. Episode Two: Deliverers

The Battle of Kurtzenheim #2

**Episode Two: Deliverers **

"Mit donnerndem Motor so schnell wie der Blitz,  
Dem Feinde entgegen im Panzer geschützt.  
Voraus den Kameraden, im Kampfe ganz allein - ja ganz allein:  
So stoßen wir tief in die feindlichen Reih'n."

(With engines a-howling, fast as is the wind,  
We head for the foe, safe, as we're in armor skinned.  
Our comrades still behind us roam; we fight the foe alone - yes, fight alone.  
We stab through the line to break the foes backbone.)

-Second Stanza,_ der Panzerlied_-

1159 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Come on, come on, let's get these people moving." Master Sergeant Ron Foo growled at his marines he moved down the street, his Jovian Optics Pulsar-Delta laser rifle cradled in his arms. Some of the civilians within earshot looked at him but their faces were mostly expressionless, giving nothing away.

In the time that he had been part of the Jovian peacekeeping force's ground contingent on Mars, he had been quite surprised at the average Martian Free Republican's attitude towards war. In a society where compulsory military service was a rite of passage, it was hard to really define a civilian.

The town of Sweetwater in the Syrtis Territory had somehow avoided attack in the earlier phases of the war. But a few days ago, the agricultural town's fortunes changed. Now, Federate troops were at the outskirts of the town, pressing the Martian Free Ranger defenders hard. 

Foo's detachment had been stationed at Sweetwater, originally using the town as a staging area to conduct escort missions for non-combatants leaving the front. Now that Sweetwater herself had become a target, it too had to be evacuated.

The civilians who were loading into the trucks now were mostly elderly people and children. Anyone of fighting age had already taken up arms to join the local militia to hold off the Federate troops who, at last report, were already breaking through at two of the town's five pressure domes. Even now, the sound of weapons fire was becoming more than distant rattles and thunder.

"Sarn't Major! Sarn't Major!" It was Private Nelson Lowe who came bounding up the street in his chunky armored space suit. 

"What is it, Lowe?" the senior NCO growled again. He had detailed Lowe to accompany the main line of the Martian Free Rangers so as to report the situation. "Why the hell didn't you use your comms?"

"I did, but there wasn't any answer from anyone." Lowe said, panting as he reached the master sergeant. "But that doesn't matter now, Sarn't Major! The Federates have broken through! I counted at least a hundred and fifty infantry. About twenty-five of them in exo-suits! They're still have trouble moving their tanks into the dome though!"

Ron could feel a ripple of panic passing through the crowd of civilians behind him. They began to load onto the trucks with renewed urgency. The Jovian marine took one look at the crowd and knew that they wasn't going to be enough time to get everyone out.

"Alright, Lowe. Rejoin your squad!" Ron turned to face the crowd who were piling on the trucks, some people were still trying to load their belongings aboard. "Kirk! Where are you, damn it!"

"Yes, Sarn't Major!" Sergeant Jimmy Kirk was one of the squad leaders under Ron. The man was, and the body armor suit he wore only emphasized the fact. Attached to his body was the special harness that bore the Jovian Optics Pulsar-Omega laser cannon. Even with such a bulky weapon strapped to his body, the sergeant moved with ran over as if it weighed nothing.

"Federates have broken through. We've _got _to get these people out of here _fast_!"

"I hear you, Sarn't Major! I'll get my men on it right away!" And the sergeant was quick to turn words into action. Bellowing a few choice expletives at his squad, they began to herd the civilians aboard the trucks. Some civilians, unwilling to part with their belongings had to be shoved onto the vehicles. Moments later, the first trucks were beginning to roll down the street.

"What is the meaning of this, Sergeant Major?" Ron cringed at that squeaky voice. He turned and saw Warrant Officer (O) Joel Spears striding through the chaos, oblivious to the citizens of Sweetwater who were panicking around him. "Why are these trucks moving out?"

Joel Spears wasn't a Warrant Officer who had worked his way up through the enlisted ranks. He was a recent graduate of the Officer Training School, commissioned to the probationary rank of Warrant Officer where he would remain for a number of months until he had proven himself. Then he would be confirmed and commissioned as a Lieutenant.  

Even though he was a man who had come up the ranks the hard way and loved everything about the JAF and its traditions, Master Sergeant Ron Foo had no respect for the youngster who trotted up to him, rifle propped nonchalantly against the shoulder. Ron had been passed over for Warrant Officer (Enlisted) once and it hurt that this young punk held the rank that should have been rightfully his. 

As Spears was the youngest platoon leader in the company, Lieutenant Sterling the company CO had seen fit to assign her company sergeant major to tag along and help the young officer find his feet. _But if Joel Spears is any indication of the caliber of officers we're producing, then the JAF is in one hell of a fix. _

"Sergeant Major! I asked you a question!" Spears whined. "Damn it, these trucks were supposed to move out as a convoy! Not as and when they like!"

"Sir," Ron Foo grated as the officer came up to him. The sergeant major stood a good head taller than the platoon leader. When Ron spoke again, his tone was that which one would use to explain things to a child. "The Federates have broken through and are entering the dome in strength The city's defenders are withdrawing in disarray. There is nothing between us and the enemy now so if we don't get the trucks moving, _none _of these people are going to get out."

"Why didn't you run this decision through me? I am in command here!" the officer said in that whiny voice that the platoon had come to hate. "Does the term 'chain of command' mean anything to you?"

"Sir, there wasn't time." Ron seethed inside. "Sir, we should setup a defensive perimeter now. To delay the Federates."

"What?" The horrified look on Joel's face would have been absolutely hilarious had this not been a combat situation that they were about to face. "You mean, _engage_ the Federates? Sergeant Major, I will remind you that our rules of engagement precludes any hostile action by us against any Martians, be they Federate or Republican."

"Even if fighting the Federates means giving these civvies more time to get away?" Ron could not contain his horror at the officer's stupidity. _What the hell do we teach at OTS nowadays_? "Sir, our orders are for us to ensure safe passage of Republican non-combatants from the war zone!"

"Yes, but it doesn't call on us to shoot at the Federates!" Joel retorted. "And they may not shoot at us because we're Jovian peacekeepers!"

"Oh, for Chrissakes! _Think_ . . .sir!" Ron could not control his temper any longer. "Do you think it's going to make any difference with the Federates?"

"You're out of line, Sergeant Major!" 

"Damn it, sir! We've got to do _something_!" Ron roared.

"I'm not going to be the one who starts a war between the Jovian Confederation and the Martian Federation!" Joel screamed back.

"You're making a mistake, sir. . ."

"That's _it_! I'm placing you under arrest! Sergeant Kirk!" The Sergeant with the laser cannon turned his attention away from his crowd control duties and took a tentative step forward.

"But, sir . . ."

"Don't 'but, sir' me, Sergeant Major! I'm in com . . ." A jagged hole exploded in Warrant Officer (O) Joel Spear's collar and he dropped in a heap, eyes wide with shock as he grasped for his throat.

"_Sniper_!" Even as Ron yelled, he was already diving for cover, his weapon held at the ready.

1209 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Hauptmann, I'm hit! I'm hit!" The voice rang shrilly in Peter's ears. "I need support!"

Peter turned and saw one of his _grupen_ mates coming under coordinated attack by a pair of Republican hovertanks. The fellow _Defender_ was already badly damaged, shedding armor from half a dozen places. They had been withdrawing towards the capital for some time now and there were neither Federate reinforcements nor let up in the Republican attacks.

"Hang on, Pierce! I'm on it!" Peter brought up his vehicle's railgun and drew a bead on one of the hovertanks. Despite their blinding speed, they were thinly-armored . . . if one could hit them. And Peter was a well-known exo-armor sniper even in a military that did not normally recognize individual achievements.

Pulling the trigger, he sent a slug on its way. His shot struck home and the enemy hovertank dropped from the sky and buried itself into the red Martian soil.

"They've got me! They got . . .  aaaaaaaargh!" 

"_Pierce_!" Peter saw his subordinate's exo tumbling onto its back, thrown backwards by a missile hit. The exo-armor had barely hit the ground when it went up in a tremendous flash. _Another one gone_, _my _grupen_ is down to three now_. 

The 12th _Sturmobergrupen_ had started the day with five _grupen_ of five exos each. Now, there were barely enough to make up two _grupen_. _So many gone_.

"Herr Hauptmann!" One of his junior officers cried out. "I'm picking up scattered reports of fighting in space."

"It must be our comrades in space."

"No, sir. It appears that the Jovians and the CEGA are fighting each other!"

Peter was stunned to hear that news. What the hell was going on up there? There had been reports earlier of Federate and Republican forces clashing in space. Why would the Jovians and Earthers be fighting each other now? _It's not important now,_ Peter told himself and forced himself to focus on the battle swirling around him. 

He picked another target, tracked it, gave it plenty of lead to compensate of the target's high speed and squeezed the trigger. The solid metal shell crossed the distance in a flash and the hovertank staggered in mid-air as it took the hit. And then it was disappearing over a ridge, flying erratically.

"Herr Hauptmann! The enemy! They are disengaging!"

_For now_ . . . Peter thought grimly to himself. The unit had taken terrible losses. In slightly over an hour, he had lost more friends than he had in the entire war before this day. 

"What are your orders, sir?"

Peter stared at the field before him, littered with the detritus of war. Pierce's exo, what little remained of it, was still burning. There was no point in staying here now. The terrain from here all the way back to the capital was mostly open plains with low ridges. Not enough cover for exo's to hide. Sure, the hovertanks didn't have much terrain to duck around either, but with their speed and numbers, it was a luxury they could do without. _Can't 'disappear' now.__ These men are looking to me for guidance. They will be watching me closely. Guess I'll have to spend another day in the service of the BundesArmee._

"We will withdraw and keep doing so until we find our next line of defense."  _Wherever that is_ . . . he didn't say aloud as he turned his exo back in the direction they had first come without waiting for acknowledgements from the rest of his men. One by one, the 12th _Sturmobergrupen_ turned and headed back towards Kurtzenheim.

1213 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

The first exchanges of fire had just been as devastating as pre-war computer simulations had predicted. Several ships on both sides had died as the JAF and CEGA Navy forces flew through each other. While exos and fighters weaved between ships, the ships themselves were jockeying for position against each other.

The JAF fleet, in an effort to counter the CEGA's dispersed forces, had dispersed as well. Strangely, there was no communication fromAdmiral Sullivan or _Gilgamesh_, but Jovian captains were trained to use their initiative and that was what they were doing now.

Space around the Red Planet glowed in a diffuse red as lasers, slugs, particle beams and missiles reached out for their targets. Spherical explosions boiled silently in space, rending armor and flesh alike, opening up gaping, vacuum-sucking wounds in the massive leviathans that continued their deadly dance in the orbit of Mars.

And all throughout this time, exos and fighters from all sides continued to battle around the _Nightingale_, which kept on rolling and drifting, unable to get clear of the battle zone.

**1215 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

Master Sergeant Ron Foo heard the muffled report again. This time, he was sure their tormentor was using a GS-1 Sniper Gyroc rifle. One of the civilians dropped this time, hit in the head. The civilians were really panicking now, there was a mad rush to board the trucks or simply get into cover.

He saw Nelson Lowe peering over the car he had hidden behind to take a look. A gyroc round smacked into the engine just inches from his face and the private dropped back into cover. 

"Stay in cover, you jackass!" Ron bellowed. _Damn it_, _we should have set up a perimeter_. _Then maybe we wouldn't be pinned down by one lousy sniper_. Ron was furious. He so desperately wanted to shoot something now, his finger feeling the trigger of his laser rifle. _Every second that sniper keeps us pinned is one second_ _more for his buddies to arrive in force_.

It was then that he heard the gurgling sound. Risking a peek round the edge of the car he was using for cover, he could see their fallen officer. He was still grasping his neck, dark arterial blood pumping from the wound, pooling behind his head. His other hand was raised skyward as he twisted on his back like and overturned turtle. Their eyes met.

"He . . . help . . .me . . ." Joel Spears burbled, blood spilling out the sides of his mouth. 

"Oh, God, oh, God!" Lowe exclaimed, looking over at Ron from his own cover. "Mister Spears is still alive! We've got to help him, Sarn't Major!"

"You stay where you are, Private!" Ron pointed at Lowe to make indicate he meant business.

"H-he . . . help . . ."

"I can do it, Sarn't Major!" Lowe pleaded, obviously distraught at their officer's plight. "Just let me go get him."

"I said stay where you are!"  Ron looked back and saw another one of his men, hidden under a truck. It was Private Darren Pang, the platoon medic, looking ready to make a rush himself. "You stay put too, Darren!" And the medic dropped back behind cover, not wishing to dispute his superior's order.

"Corporal Kwok!"

"Yes, Sarn't Major!" A voice answered from behind him. It took Foo awhile to notice their own sniper conceal behind a clustered pile of refugees' belongings.

"Can you spot our sniper?"

"I think I know where he might be. But I can't get a clear shot unless he comes out for a shot!" The Jovian with the scoped laser rifle replied.

"Sarn't Major!" Lowe was in tears now, his eyes fixed on their struggling leader.

"Stand down!"

There was the muffled crack of the rifle once again and a jagged hole appeared in Spears' left thigh. The officer jerked but was unable to scream for all the blood he was choking on.

"Sarn't Major!" Lowe pleaded again.

"Damn it! Kwok?"

"Hang on, I think I got him!"

"You hear that, Lowe? _Stay put_!"

Another shot. And another hole exploded into existence, this time in the officer's other thigh. Joel's outstretched hand dropped to the ground and he lay on the street in spasms, 

"To hell with this shit! _Yaaaaaaah_!" The private had dropped his rifle and was running around the car now, scrambling towards the wounded officer.

"_No, Lowe_! _Get b_ . . ."

There was another crack and Lowe's head jerked back with sickening abruptness. Then the marine crashed on his knees before keeling over face first onto the street, right next to the officer. No sooner had Lowe's body hit the ground did Corporal Kwok open fire with a burst of laser beams that lanced through the window of a building in front of them. 

Ron though he saw a figure falling backwards. But a rifle did fall to the ground, a clear indication that Kwok had not missed. Ron was on his feet now, racing over to the two figures on the ground, the rest of the platoon moving up to set up a defensive perimeter. The last of the civilians were boarding the trucks now. No one needed to tell them to hurry this time.

Private Darren Pang, who doubled as the platoon medic had emerged from his hiding spot as well and was already seeing to the two limp, bleeding forms on the street.

"How bad?" Ron ask, looking to the combat medic.

"They're dead. Both of them." Darren reported with a hint of bitterness and Ron swore. 

"Sarn't Major, look!" Sergeant Kirk called out excitedly as he leapt back into cover behind a car and pointed. "We have incoming!"

The first of the Federate infantry, men who wore only armored Mars suits similar to the Jovian suits, were spilling in from one end of the street. For one surreal moment, they all stood facing one another at a range of no more than a hundred meters, neither side willing to make the first move.

Then the senior Federate soldier, an Oberleutnant raised his hand to give the order to fire. The words had barely left the man's lips when a few eager Federates opened up with their gyrocs. A split-second later, Sergeant Kirk, needing no further encouragement was spraying suppressing fire into the Federates as the majority of them stood where they were and fired.

"_Move_!" Ron bellowed at the medic and hauled the man off his knees, dragging him into cover as the street erupted into a fresh war zone, gryoc rounds churning up the ground where the two had been standing. Ron felt several gyroc slugs slapping into the pavement next to his feet just as he threw himself into cover, the young private not far behind. 

The Federate troops were beginning to react to Kirk's barrage now, many of them scrambling for cover. At least half a dozen soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, mowed down by the JAF sergeant's initial shots. Ron saw Chris popping out of cover, snapping off a quick three-beam burst from his rifle. The Federate officer, who was trying to rally his men for a charge, fell suddenly with three smoking holes in his chest.

While Federate gyroc rounds punched into the cars that the Jovian marines were using for cover, Jovian laser bolts snapped back, hissing as they struck anything solid. In terms of cover, it was clear that the Federates were getting the lower end of the bargain since they were pretty much in the open to begin with. Ron watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as Sergeant Kirk walked his fire across a line of prone troopers who had nowhere to go.

_This is good_. Ron thought grimly as he sighted his rifle on a Federate trooper who had ducked around trash bin. He squeezed the trigger twice and saw his target go down. _We could hold for awhile_, _I think_.

"Don't look now, Sarn't Major, but it looks like we have more company." Private Darren Pang had his rifle out, his role as a medic temporarily forgotten. "Seems  like more Feds have decided to join the party."

Ron stared at where the medic was pointing and saw something that made his blood run cold. Sabertooths. The Feds were bringing up their exo-suited troops. So far, he counted only ten of those two-meter armored figures, but they alone were enough to cause his marines some serious grief. It was now that he began to wish his people had been allowed to bring along their Decker exo-suits instead of being asked to wear their regular body armor. But then, no one had ever envisioned the Jovian peacekeepers in direct combat with the troops of the Martian Federation.

"Kirk! Lay down suppressing fire on those exo-suits! Bring up the anti-armor gun!" Ron bellowed to the Sergeant, then turned to the medic. "Get back to the command post. Inform Command of our situation. Call for immediate back up or extraction!"

The medic didn't reply. He simply nodded and ran off. Most of the marines were shifting their fire to the exo-suits now. Someone had got the 24mm anti-armor gun up and working and the sight of an armor-piercing shell punching through the thick chest carapace of one of the exo-suits like an express train made the others pause to take cover.

Ron fought down a rising sense of panic. Another squad of exo-suited troops was arriving and he knew it was only going to be a matter of time before the Federates got brave or smart enough to either rush or flank the Jovian peacekeepers.

**1255 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213**

"Lancelot, Lancelot. This is Camelot. We're coming under heavy attack by multiple exos." _Vigilant_'s call for help was as clear as it had been urgent. "We need you back over here."

_And just _how_ am I supposed to do that_? Adelene asked herself sardonically as she kept her eye on a pair of _Syreen_s that had taken interest in her. She waited until their lasers probed out towards her before she threw her fighter into an intricate series of maneuvers, burning up more of her precious fuel.

It seemed ludicrous that she couldn't break away from slower-moving exos while flying her _Intruder_ fighter. But everywhere she turned, there would be someone shooting at her so all she could do was stay within that confused melee, shooting at whatever targets presented themselves to her.

"Lancelot to Camelot. Still heavily engaged. Will attempt to return at earliest opportunity."  Adelene said, grunting against the force of acceleration, wincing as laser beams passed dangerously close to her fighter. Rolling to the left and pulling back on the flight stick, she put herself out of the immediate danger and came face to face with one of the strangest sights she had seen all day.

_Nightingale _was wallowing helplessly, almost serenely amidst one of the most intense dogfights ever fought in space, its emblem still displayed proud and unblemished on its hull. She grimaced at the irony. The Solar Cross had long been seen as a neutral corps who would always seek to administer medical aid to all peoples without discrimination. They were a symbol of peace. Yet today, it was over them that this battle was now being fought.

_Well_, _at least they're in the center of the action. Makes it easier for them to help everyone_, she thought darkly. A _Syreen_crossed her sights and she mashed her firing button and was rewarded by the sight of her lasers chewing deep into her targets armor.

 But then a laser bit into her own fighter's fragile armor and she threw her fighter into a loop, looking over her shoulder in search of her assailant. The _Syreens_ that she thought she'd lost earlier were back. 

And so the vicious cycle of fighters and exo being pounced and pouncing one another went on unabated.

**1303 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Excalibur, this is Scabbard."  The _Facilitator_'s Tactical Officer was saying into his headset.

"Scabbard, Excalibur Lead. Go." Captain Alvin Ng replied tersely. They had already gone through two CEGA task forces, causing some significant damage along the way though Alvin had ordered his pilots to conserve their ammunition wherever possible. Two of his exo-armors were already gone, but that still left ten, including his own.

"CEGA exos are hitting our carriers hard. Fleet command wants you to return the favor." The Tactical Officer explained. "We've picked up what might be a CEGA carrier group not too far from your position. Sending coordinates now."

"Copy, Scabbard. We'd have to return after this though. Most of my pilots are down to half their payload." The squadron commander replied. "And I hope you're not going to ask us to go too far. Fuel's going to become a problem soon."

"Roger that, Excalibur Lead. We'll . . ." The sound of an explosion drowned out the rest of the Tactical Officer's words. When the tinny rush of noise had subsided, there was nothing but the gentle hiss of static. 

"Scabbard, I just lost you. Say again your last, please." There was no reply and Alvin felt a knot growing in his gut. "Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, do you copy, over."

There was still no reply and an overwhelming sense of dread came upon him. Not satisfied with the silence, he thumbed the transmit button once again, speaking more urgently then before. "Scabbard, Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, please respond. Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, can you hear me?"

"Excalibur Lead," A different voice sounded in his headset. "This is JSS _Vigilant_, callsign Camelot. The _Facilitator _has been hit. We're taking over tactical control of your mission now."

Alvin felt his stomach turn to ice and his mouth was dry as he answered. "Uh, Camelot, you say Scabbard has been hit? How badly?" He needed to know. So many of his friends were aboard that carrier.

"That is unknown at this time, Excalibur Lead."

"What's that supposed to mean, Camelot?" Alvin retorted. "You must know _something_!"

"This is not a secure channel, Excalibur Lead." 

"But . . ."

"You have your orders, Excalibur, carry them out! Report back when you have completed your mission! Camelot clear!" And with that, the airwaves were silent again.

_Well_, _that's _that_ I guess_, Alvin thought grimly to himself. He switched over to the squadron frequencies. "Listen up, Deathwing. _Facilitator_ has been hit. I'm not sure how bad. But there's supposed to be an enemy carrier group not far from here so we're been tasked to check it out and destroy it if possible. So form on me, people. Let's go deliver some payback."

**1318 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Here they come again!" As if to add emphasis to Peter's warning, yet another exo-armor of the 12th _Sturmobergrupen_ fell, it's cockpit reduced to a smoking ruin. Peter watched, heartsick and helpless as the machine tumbled into the red Martian soil. 

At least this time they had managed to find cover and had managed to link up with two _Obergrupen_ of Abdiel hovertanks. The Federates returned fire and the effect was almost immediate, with several Republican craft falling to their volley.

"Herr _Hauptmann_! Look up in the sky!" One of the survivors of his unit yelled. Peter looked up and saw the last thing he had expected to see. Man-shaped figures were dropping from the sky. Calling up for maximum magnification, he realized that what looked like men were actually the bulky silhouettes of humanoid exo-armors.

Then he saw movement, something white billowing out of the man-shaped figure. Then he realized that he was looking at blossoming parachutes. In the light of the distant sun, they looked like halos of light dropping for an area between them and the capital. 

He counted at least a dozen exos dropping towards the ground. But the design was unfamiliar. It was far bulkier than a _Pathfinder_, perhaps even blockier than his own _Defender_ with missile launchers mounted on the shoulders. There was the flare of thrusters now as they got closer to the ground and the parachutes were separating now as the exos slowed down to a near hover. One by one, they began to rotate towards him and Peter took a sharp intake of air when he saw the insignia. The two thunderbolts clenched in a mailed fist. Jovian Forces.

His mind whirled. Were the Jovians invading his homeland too. Then another thought struck his mind. There would be chaos now as they were sandwiched between the Jovians and the Republic. This was a chance to get away. All he had to do was ensure that everyone else was too busy to notice.

Returning to the battle in front of him, he could see the Republican hovertanks dropping exo-suited infantry now. Yet more tanks were approaching. They were going to be outnumbered. Even though significant reinforcements were on the way, the JAF forces would now be in their way. 

He was in command of this ragged defense line that was a collection of exos and hovertanks from units that were far from whole. All he needed was to give the word. And after that, he could slip away in the confusion that would surely follow such an order. And it didn't matter if it was the Republicans or the Jovians he went over too. Both nations would certainly offer a batter life than the Federation . . . He pondered the decision facing him. He struggled with his fear, he wrestled with his conscience, he grappled with his desire for a better life.

He gave the order.

"The enemy is too strong! We'll never hold them! Every man for himself! I say again, every man for himself! Disperse and try to reach friendly lines on your own! Move, move, _move_!"

**1321 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Engaging thrusters. Jettisoning 'chutes." Corporal Joshua Loke mumbled to himself as the ground rose to meet him. He felt a kick in his gut as the thrusters went into action to slow his exo armor down. A quick glance at the rate of descent indicator told him that everything was going as it should.

The EAH-02 _Deliverer_ was certainly quite a leap from the _Pathfinder _Alphas that he used to fly. They were heavier and slower in space. But it was the newest introduction to the JAF's exo armor inventory. Designed for ground combat, it could hover and fly in atmosphere, something that the _Pathfinder_ certainly could not hope to do. Why a lowly corporal had been amongst the select few to try out the _Deliverer_ was a mystery to him and he had taken the assignment with mixed feelings.

The sixty-seven ton exo hit the surface of Mars with enough force for Joshua to feel the mildest discomfort. But that wasn't important. The fact that he had made it down in one piece was. They had made a full squadron drop and there had never been the opportunity to try this before since Jupiter was not conducive for practicing what they had just done.

Without saying a word, the twelve _Deliverers _spread out into open order and began to move towards the capital, where they would attempt to block any Federate reinforcements, using deadly force if necessary.

**1340 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Go! Go! _Go_!" Pure exultation had sung in his veins as the _Tengu_-class carrier grew in his sights. The ship's point defense lasers spat ineffectually at him and Captain Alvin Ng had no trouble dodging the deadly streaks of coherent light.

Their superiors had been right after all and the Deathwings had indeed encountered a carrier group at the coordinates supplied. Six _Tengu_ carriers, accompanied by a quartet of _Bricriu_corvettes had sat in the open, ripe for the picking, defended by a single pair of _Syreens_ and two squads of exo-suits that had already been taken care of. Alvin himself had accounted for one of the _Syreens_, whose components and pilot were now scattered across several hundred cubic kilometers of space.

There was a pair of _Pathfinder _Alphas moving ahead of him towards another one of the _Tengus_. He could see that both pilots had already readied their plasma lances in preparation for a devastating, close-range slashing attack against the carrier. It was unlikely that the ship would survive the attack by a single exo, much less two.

The duo closed in lightning fast. The leader had his lance lit up, resembling what ancient movie buffs would have certainly called a 'lightsaber'. But just as the first _Pathfinder_ was about to make contact with its target, the _Tengu_vanished in one fiery explosion that engulfed the _Pathfinder_.

_No_! Alvin gasped as he watched the second _Pathfinder_, unable to stop or veer off in time, fly straight into the blossoming fireball as well. It took a few seconds for the flames to dissipate even in the airless vacuum of space. 

To his dismay, the carrier was still there, relatively unscathed. Of his two squadronmates, there was no sign. He gasped in wide-eyed horror at what he had just witnessed, unable to figure out what had just happened. He saw another exo from his squadron, a _Retaliator_ trying to repeat the same attack on a corvette, only to suffer the same fate.

Cutting his thrust, he called up for maximum magnification on his target's hull. The pop-up window appeared before his eyes and he studied it while dodging laser beams. _There_! The _Tengu's_silhouette was slightly different. There were several bulky objects attached to his target's hull. Bringing up his exo armor's railgun, he snapped off one quick shot, aimed at one of the objects mounted on the carrier's hull.

The solid metal slug, propelled by the electromagnets in his railgun, crossed the void and struck home. An instant later, a huge explosion seemed to swallow up the CEGA warship. But when things cleared out again, the ship was cruising on, seemingly unfazed by the blast.

"Deathwing Lead to all Deathwings! Break off your attack!" He screamed urgently into his helmet microphone. He was too late to save another pilot who disappeared in a fiery wall of death emanating from a corvette. "The enemy is using some sort of proximity mine weapon. Stay back and use your long-range weapons!"

There were numerous calls of acknowledgement. He counted only six voices. A warning sounded in his ears and he saw several blips flashing into existence on his radar display, blinking urgently. Someone had targeted a missile swarm at him. Aiming at his target again, he loosed of one more shot before kicking in with the thrusters again, throwing his _Retaliator_ into a vicious climb up and away from the incoming missiles. 

_Going to be a problem now if we can't get close to use the lances_ . . . Alvin thought as he went through his series of evasive maneuvers. Sure, they could use their ranged weapons, but it won't be anywhere near as devastating. _So we'll just have to shoot out those mines first, then close into plasma lance range _. . . .

"Sir, we've got high speed incoming," his wingman voice spoke inside in helmet. "Behind us . . ."

"How many?" Alvin cut his acceleration and began to rotate his exo in place to face the new threat. He had to assume it was a threat after how nearly half his squadron had fallen to the CEGA trick of mounting proximity mines to their warships. 

"Looks like a dozen exos. Maybe more . . ."

On his sensor display, he could make out the first blips flashing into view. At this range, it was still difficult to identify them. But they were certainly coming in at high speed, burning precious reaction mass to reach such high speeds. If they were they enemy, they were either going to have to make one hell of a braking maneuver or get just one pass before they would be zipping by his squadron.

"I've got a visual." Another one of the Deathwing's said. "Sending now."

A separate display opened before Alvin's eyes and he did not like what he saw. About fifteen CEGA exo armors were closing in on his squadron. Some of them had signs of damage, all had empty missile pylons. They were the resident complements of the carriers he was attacking now. So there was little consolation that this had not been some grand trap orchestrated to destroy an entire Jovian exo armor squadron though it had already come close.

It was just a gaggle of survivors returning to the carriers after striking at the Jovian fleet, hustling now because the Jovians seemed intent on returning the favor.

"Camelot, this is Excalubur One." He didn't wait for the Tactical Officer on the _Vigilant_ to reply before he continued. "We've located the enemy carrier group and are currently engaged. Be advised that the enemy have some sort of proximity explosive device that they detonate when we close into plasma lance range."

"Alright, Excalibur One." Camelot replied after a heartbeat. "Will relay your intell up to Fleet Command."

"And I'm going to need some serious backup." Alvin continued as the range between him and the CEGA exos closed rapidly. "Looks like the locals have returned and they're seriously pissed with us for trespassing. Uploading tactical data now."

"Very well, Excalibur One. Hang tough. Help's on it's way."

Alvin didn't reply. Instead he switched to the squadron frequency and addressed his remaining pilots. "Alright, Deathwings, looks like they still have some fight left in them. Let's see if we can break them up first." That said, he began to thrust away from his original targets to face the enemy exos closing towards him.

But as the first CEGA _Wyvern_ and _Syreen_ exos came into view, he felt the first pangs of worry and steeled himself for the coming battle.

**1352 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

The Federation line was disintegrating. Caught between the Republican advance and the Jovian _Deliverers_, the Federate commander must have panicked in order to have his troops scatter like that. 

Corporal Joshua Loke checked his sensors. There were still significant Federate troop concentrations behind him, but they were holding back since there were Jovians in front of them now. Apparently, the commander of the Federate reinforcements coming out of the capital did not want to provoke the Jovians despite his possession of superior numbers.

His CO had already marked out a ridge which they would make their defensive line. Here, they would attempt to hinder Federate reinforcements, giving the Republicans a chance to regroup and retire should they desire.

_Well_, _they should_, Joshua thought to himself. The Republicans may have had the Federates on the run so far, but the forces emerging from Kurtzenheim were far stronger than anything they may have encountered so far. And it wasn't as if the Republican forces had gotten off lightly in their lightning advance to carve a corridor through Federate territory. 

"Heads up, people. Fleet Command just called," That was the squadron commander speaking. "Looks like we've got CEGA exos making planetfall. We can expect them any moment . . ."

"Like now, sir." Someone else broke in. "I've got them, coming in behind us. Projected landing zone is about two and half klicks behind us."

Joshua couldn't help looked over, his optical sensors scanning the Martian sky. Their chutes were deploying now and he could make out the silhouettes well enough to recognize them. CEGA _Wyverns_, with their trademark hypergolic bazookas, were descending on Mars as well.

**1357 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Come on, move it, move it!" Master Sergeant Ron Foo growled as he triggered off another burst of laser fire at their pursuers. 

The rest of the platoon was moving down the street quickly now. Some firing over the shoulder but most simply trying to distance themselves from the Federate troops who were hot on their heels. 

A Sabertooth exo suit stepped out from an alley, cutting loose with its machine gun. Ron saw one of his marines drop, looking very obviously dead from the number of rounds he took. Next to him, the medic tried to move to help, but Ron grabbed him by the collar.

"He's dead! Forget it! We've got to get to the LZ!"

An officer was trying to organize his men for another charge, with the Sabertooth to lead the way. Ron turned to Corporal Kwok but he needn't have bothered. The burly marine sniper raised his scoped laser rifle in one fluid motion and triggered off a three-shot burst. The officer in question clutched his chest which had been scorched into a smoking ruin, then tumbled onto the sidewalk, the rest of his men remaining hidden while the Sabertooth continued to blast away.

"Someone take out that Saber!" Ron screamed as he caught sight of more movement near the exo suit and hosed down the area.

A marine stopped their withdrawal and came forward with his 24mm anti-armor gun. Even as bullets pelted the area around him, the JAF trooper knelt calmly, sighted his long gun and triggered off a shot that struck its target directly in the faceplate.

"Good shot!" Ron congratulated as the armored humanoid keeled over, the back of the helmet a bloody mess. The marine with the anti-armor gun said nothing, got up and continued his jog towards the landing zone.

The shuttle had touched down just outside the dome and the first marines were already piling aboard. Seeing their opponents retreating must have given the Federates fresh courage since almost all of them rose as one and charged forward. 

"Kirk!"

"On it, Sergeant Major!" The bulky sergeant who had just exited the dome via a large hole that had been blown in it, turned and dropped onto his knee, bringing up his pulse laser cannon. Grinning like a maniac, the man depressed the trigger and sent a heavy stream of bolts from his heavy weapon. Swinging the weapon from left to right, he scythed down the Federate soldiers like wheat, keeping at it until the barrel nearly overheated.

Convinced that discretion was the better part of valor, Federates had gone to ground again and Ron knew it was time to go.

The rest of the platoon was already aboard the shuttle so he called out to Kirk to get going. The big man got up and turned around, only to jerk thrice as heavy gyroc rounds slammed into his back. For one horrifying moment, their eyes locked and Ron could see the younger man's agony.

Then the Jovian sergeant crumpled back onto the ground, his eyes wide but lifeless. It was a pity they had to leave the dead, but there just wasn't any sense in staying around. Firing off one final long burst, Ron stumbled up the shuttle's retracting cargo ramp and into the arms of his fellow marines.

**1402 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213**

They were gone. Each and _every_ one of them! 

Captain Alvin Ng squeezed tears out of his eyes and tried to focus as he wove his way through the streams of fire emanating from the _Syreens_ that were pursuing him now. Twisting in mid-flight, he managed to get off a shot with his railgun and watched with satisfaction and the round smashed into one of the _Syreen_'_s_, splitting the exo-armor open at the shoulder.

He saw the ammunition counter for his railgun display that he had just four shots left. His missiles were gone so once his railgun ammunition was exhausted, he'd be down to his two plasma lances. 

As good a pilot as he may have thought himself to be, there was no way he was going to beat the nine remaining exos with four railgun slugs and two plasma lances. And his sensor display showed nothing but red now, the last of his squadronmates perishing no more than a minute ago.  

_Well_, _looks like this is it_ . . . he thought to himself as he somersaulted in space, dropping in behind a _Wyvern_ that had lunged at him with it's plasma lance slashing. A couple of red flashing lights on his damage indicator told him that the Earther had managed to slice off part of his _Retaliator_, but the fact that he was alive to think about it told him it wasn't too serious. 

Centering his targeting reticule on the bulky exo's thruster pack, he thumbed off a shot, sending the solid metal projectile crashing home. The _Wyvern_ shuddered and shook, shards of armor peeling off along with the thruster pack. He would have fired another shot to finish his target off had he the ammunition to spare.

But before he could go in search of another target, he felt his _Retaliator_ shudder as laser bolts struck it in the rear. All sorts of warning indicators were flashing in his face now and he struggled to turn in order to face his assailants. They were circling him now, like wolves circling a wounded prey. There was now way out now and he knew he was at their mercy.

Or at least he thought they were. One of the _Syreens_ exploded abruptly and the other Earth exos scattered. A quick glance at his sensors showed blue blips._ At last_! In the confusion of the fighting, neither side had noticed them but now they were making their presence felt. EAL-04NA _Hectors_, essentially _Pathfinders_ with their legs replaced by a massive thruster array that gave them three _g_s of acceleration were screaming in to the rescue.  

_Yes_! Taking advantage of the situation, he triggered a shot into the _Wyvern_ closest to him, its pilot probably still stunned by the arrival of Jovian reinforcements. Ramming the throttles forward, Alvin pushed his damaged exo away as quickly as his crippled engines would allow. The proximity alert sounded and he had only a fraction of a second to realize that someone was closing into plasma lance range.

He saw the flash of the light blade passing very close to him before his entire universe exploded in searing flame, erupting for a moment into indescribable brilliance as he felt himself being hurled into the darkness that lay just beyond . . .


	4. Episode Three: Armageddon

The Battle of Kurtzenheim #3

**Episode Three: Armageddon**

"_Und läßt uns im Stich einst das treulose Glück,  
Und kehren wir nie mehr zur Heimat zurück,  
Trifft uns die Todeskugel, ruft uns das Schicksal ab - ja Schicksal ab:  
Dann ist uns der Panzer ein ehernes Grab_."

(And should at long last, Fickle Lady Luck leave,  
And we remain here, leaving family to grieve,  
A bullet with our name on it, find us and seal our fate - yes, seal our fate,  
Our tanks will our grave be on that final date.)

-Final Stanza,_ der Panzerlied_-__

1418 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Fuel was already becoming a problem now. With her reaction mass tanks now less than a quarter full, Warrant Officer Adelene Chan wasn't going to have to be careful how she maneuvered her _Intruder_.

There was some good news and there was bad news as well. First, the good news. She had managed to get clear of the roiling melee that continued to rage around the _Nightingale_. Having successfully disengaged from that swirling mess

Now came the bad news. And there was plenty of it. Returning to the fleet and the _Vigilant_, she had found several CEGA exos and fighters still shooting up JAF warships. Checking in with _Vigilant_'s Tactical Officer, she found thatthe last set of instructions to her were still in effect.

And so, low on fuel and down to her UV gatling laser, she had ploughed through the Earth forces, coasting wherever possible to conserve fuel. The CEGA fighters were already beginning to withdraw, their munitions and fuel almost completely exhausted. She had ignored these since they posed no more threat to the fleet.

She had pounced a _Fury_ that had been headed for _Vigilant_, a stream of energy from her gatling laser shearing off her target's thruster assembly, while the strike carrier's point defense lasers perforated the powerless hulk with several dozen high powered bolts of light.

The fuel gauge showed her eating into the remaining 15% of her reaction mass. She could only pray that it would outlast the CEGA exos which were themselves beginning to withdraw in waves.

1425 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Kurtzenheim and its surroundings were gripped in chaos. As far as Hauptmann Peter Tan could tell from the garbled snippets over the radio, the action in space was one grand melee that rivaled the ferocity of the ground battle that was moving ever closer to his nation's capital.

From what he could piece together, in addition to Federate forces trying to hold back the Republican assault, the Jovians were landing in force around the planet to assist Republican troops in covering the evacuations and to hunt CEGA exos that had sought refuge on the Martian surface. Follow-on CEGA forces were also arriving, to hunt the Jovians who were hunting their comrades. 

Communications were a complete mess as electronic warfare operators on all sides battled for superiority of the airwaves. No sooner had Republican jamming been defeated would it be replaced by Jovian wide-band jamming, which in turn would be countered by CEGA efforts. When the Federates got a break, Peter would then hear scattered updates from higher command. Then the cycle would simply start again.

"Hauptmann!" That voice almost made him jump in his seat. He recognized it at Oberleutnant Becker, one of the assistant _grupen_ commanders. "Hauptmann Tan, where are you, sir?"

He scanned his radar. Becker's exo was showing at the edge of his sensor display. _Damn it_. He had figured that he had managed to slip away cleanly in the confusion following his order for the 12th _Sturmobergrupen_to scatter. 

Now it seemed like he had picked up a trail. And he was just short of where he had last seen the Jovian exo-armors too. 

"Hauptmann, we have new orders from Command!" Becker continued even though he received no answer from his superior. "We are to turn around and form a new line to hold back the Jovians!"

Peter didn't answer. Instead he pushed his exo forward, trying to coax every last ounce of energy from its tired reactor. He simply had to lose his comrade and then he'd be safe. Maybe there was a chance the he could elude detection . . .

"Sir! I _know_ you are out there! Please respond! Command is _demanding _that you respond now!"

Peter knew that if he had any second thoughts about defecting, now would be his last chance to turn back. But then he knew that even if he went back now, hard questions would be asked about why he had ordered his unit to scattered in the face of the enemy advance. _No_, he told himself. He had already crossed the point of no return when he gave that order. 

"Transmission garbled . . . please repeat . . ." And with that he shut down his exo's comm unit. A moment later, he toggled off the IFF transponder as well, making him invisible to friendly units. Without squawking an Identification Friend or Foe code of any sort, he would essentially be fair game for anyone who didn't see the Martian Federation markings on his vehicle. It was a risk that he was willing to take.

1427 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Corporal Joshua Loke twisted his linear frame and consequently, his entire exo, snapping off a hurried shot at the fleeting glimpse that he got of his target. 

But he knew he was already too late as the bolt of blue lighting crashed into the ridgeline that his quarry and disappeared under. Red Martian dust turned to black glass as the charge particles sizzled whatever they touched.

He checked his sensor display but he needn't have bothered since the image was heavily snowed over by jamming from at least a dozen different sources. He looked around and realized suddenly that he was alone. So engrossed had he been in tracking down the _Wyvern_ that was his target that he had allowed himself to be separated from his comrades.

"Deliverer Ten to any Deliverer, come in please?" His eyes searched the Martian terrain desperately for anything that might look like an exo, be it friendly or otherwise. Vast pillars of red dust were rising now as exo armors threshed about, emerging long enough to fire before disappearing into cover once more.

"I say again, this is Deliverer Ten. Is there anyone out there?"

As if on cue, a chunky humanoid shape stepped out of the gloom just in front of him, causing him to literally jump in his linear frame. Had in been in space, that would not have been a problem. But his knee-jerk reaction had caused his exo to literally jump and stumble backwards even as the CEGA _Wyvern _sent dual streams of mass driver rounds slashing out towards him. Joshua grunted as several round bored through his _Deliverer_'s chest armor, rocking the pilot housed within.

It was a good thing that he had been tumbling when the first shots struck since his exo armor had hit the ground as the worst of the salvo passed overhead. Raising his combination weapon pod which housed his particle cannon and railgun in over-under configuration, he sent a slug screaming at the retreating form.

Rolling his damaged _Deliverer_ over and onto its knees, he checked the status displays. Most of the damage had been structural though he noted that the right arm, which bore his vibro axe was responding a little slower than normal.

Realizing that his attacker was very likely circling around for another shot, he brought his exo back up to its feet. The key to a battle like this was to keep moving. Staring into the swirling murk, he realized that it was hopeless trying to spot his assailant. It was very likely that the _Wyvern_ had encountered him purely by chance. 

He toggled on the massive thrusters and felt his exo rising in a thick pillar of dust. Scanning the ground below him, he thought he saw an exo slipping in and out of the dust clouds and he shot over on his thrusters, coming back to earth just behind it. 

The other pilot must have either felt the impact of the _Deliverer_ landing behind him or simply sensed the danger since the exo began to turn even as the _Deliverer_'s knee joints were absorbing the impact of landing. 

Even from its side, Joshua recognized his target as a CEGA _Wyvern_, possibly the same one that had attacked him earlier. His own combo weapon pod was already raised he made a split-second decision to use the railgun since he couldn't fire both weapons simultaneously. It was unfortunate that the CEGA pilot was raising his own arm to bring his weapon to bare since then there was nothing to stop the solid, ten-kilogram slug from crashing into the weakly-armored waist section.

Armor buckled and splintered and the _Wyvern_ sagged, mortally wounded. Switching to his linked Vulcan cannons mounted on either side of his exo's head, he send a withering hail of ultra-dense 20mm shells chewing the vulnerable area under the _Wyvern_'s armpit.

A green light came on, indicating that the particle cannon was now ready to fire and Joshua sent the bolt of accelerated particles crashing into his target's upper torso just to make sure it was dead. Blue lightning played across the exo as it collapsed face-first onto the ground. A bright light seemed to emanate from within and Joshua's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen.

1429 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

The dust cloud around him vanished suddenly and a shockwave nearly bowled his _Defender_ _Camel_ over had it not been for his quick reflexes. He waited for the buffeting shock to pass and looked to the source.

Standing no more than fifty meters ahead was an exo armor. The most menacing model he had ever seen.  It looked a bit like a _Pathfinder_, except for the massive rocket pods (thankfully empty) on it shoulders and the mean looking axe grasped in its right hand.

The unidentifiable remains of another exo lay strewn at the first exo's feet, and it was clear that the victim's reactor had exploded. Somehow, the victor stood before Hauptmann Peter Tan now, charred, battered but still operational. 

For one terrified moment, he thought that it was a Republican machine. But then he saw the partially scorched motif on the chunky shoulder pads. _Jovian__ thunderbolts_ . . . He felt his heart skip a beat and he lowered his exo's railgun even as the Jovian machine finally turned to face it fully.

_Yes_! He had finally made contact with Jovian forces. He had not thought it possible but here was the meanest-looking Jovian exo he had ever seen. And for once, he was glad to see a machine of his adversaries up close and personal.

The problem now was trying to convince this Jovian that he was trying to defect before he decided to blow him away. The Jovian's main weapon was coming up and Peter found himself staring into it twin barrels.

1431 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

Adelene allowed herself to sagged into her acceleration couch and release huge sigh. She was a spent entity, which was just as well since they were clear of enemy forces now. The JAF fleet had broken up into numerous task forces after the initial salvos.

_Vigilant_, her home vessel had somehow managed to keep up with the _Gilgamesh_ and the flagship's consorts in the midst of the grand battle that had ceased only moments ago as the last of the enemy exo armors fled for the safety of their home carriers.

Alone in the still silence of her cockpit, she could hear her labored breathing and the runaway pounding of her heart. She took several gulps of oxygen in an effort to calm her nerves and slow down her heart rate. It took nearly a full minute to do that.

When she trusted herself to finally speak, she thumbed the transmitting button on her HOTAS (Hand On Throttle And Stick) system and spoke into her helmet pickup. It was then that she realized how dry her mouth really was. It felt as if she had been chewing on cotton and it was no surprise then that her voice sounded hoarse.

"Camelot, Camelot." She croaked. "This is Lancelot One. Requesting landing clearance."

"Negative, Lancelot One." That was the voice of the Deck Commander on the _Vigilant_. "Half our flight bays are down and we're trying to recover the exos first."

_Right_ . . . Adelene rolled her eyes. It was _always_ the exos that got priority in the JAF. Sure, the fighters were the ones who could get to the combat zone first and often did. But exo armors were the pets of the Jovian High Command. Maybe it had something to do with the relative expendability of the interceptors as opposed to the exorbitant price tag that came with each one of those humanoid war machines.  

Coasting past the _Vigilant_, she could see the extensive damage that had been done to her portside flight bays. Unlike the more popular _Lancer _interceptor fighter, the _Intruder_ she flew had a real clear canopy rather than the opaque, wraparound holoscreens of the _Lancer_. That little feature allowed her to view the damage with her own eyes as she closed in on her mothership.Several jagged holes and scorch marks marring her once sleek lines. 

Crossing over to the strike carrier's other side, she could see a badly shot-up _Retaliator_ Alpha trying to dock with one the three operational flight bays one the starboard side. She suppressed a snort of disgust. The exo looked fit for scrap and yet they were trying to recover it before her own, relatively unscathed fighter. It made no sense to her at all. The wrecked _Retaliator_ would simply take up space in the flight bay, unable to contribute any further to this battle.

"Better make it quick, Camelot. I'm about to go running on fumes." Adelene finally said, glancing nervously at her fuel gauge. She had the engine throttled back since she did not need the thrust.

"Watch that tone, Lancelot." The Deck Commander snapped back at her. "We'll recover you as soon as we're done with the exos. Captain's preparing search and rescue assets in case you fighter jocks run out of fuel before then."

Adelene felt her gut twisting at that. Back at flight school, it had been taught to them. Upon transfer to an active squadron, it had been further reinforced by the squadron leaders. But never had she expected to hear it happening to her for real.

Interceptors were considered expendable to the Jovian Armed Forces. In combat, they were supposed to use their speed to get in quick and do as much damage as possible until the exo armors arrived. If fuel ran out, the pilot was expected to wait for search and rescue assets to arrive and pick them up. And that almost always meant ejecting, leaving their relatively replaceable fighters to the cold depths of space. The machines may have been considered expendable but the pilots were obviously not.

She looked at her fuel gauge again and felt an honest sense of dread. She wasn't very big on being out in space. Even with her A-9 flight suit on, she always felt vulnerable in space without the protective shell of her fighter cockpit wrapped around her. 

Taking several more deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down and keep her stomach from doing anymore flips. There was a lump growing in her throat now as every second seemed to bring her closer to the inevitable act of ejection.

"Lancelot! Lancelot!" Camelot's frenzied voice was barely recognizable. "We have multiple high-speed incoming!"

"What the . . .?" Adelene leaned forward at that panicked call, feeling the seat restraints digging into her shoulders. Her mind and pulse rate were racing again at the threat of imminent danger.

"Confirmed! Multiple enemy exos inbound on high burn!" 

Adelene's sensor display chirped as numerous red blips were updated to her targeting system courtesy of the crew in the _Vigilant_'s communications center. There were about a dozen of them, coming from straight ahead, having swung around the lee side of the Red Planet. Whether they were simply a group of exos using the planet as a slingshot to return home or a strike force intent on attacking the Jovian flagship, it was clear that they were going to pass through the JAF force.

"Looks like a lightning strike . . ." Adelene said to no one in particular. The rate of closure displayed on a sidebar. It would be less than thirty seconds before they got into firing range. 

"Go get them, Lancelot!"

"With what?" Adelene retorted. "All I've got left . . ."

"Just do it!" _Vigilant_'s Tactical Officer screamed back. "_Protect the flagship_!"

Adelene needed no further encouragement. Pushing her throttle forward and disregarding the blinking red light that warned her of impending fuel starvation, she placed her gun reticule over one of the exo armors that was screaming towards her. Her targeting computer identified it as a _Fury_, an improved version of the _Syreen_. 

They way she figured it, she'd have about a window of two seconds to fire her gatling laser before they passed each other. The thing about lightning strikes (given that both sides had enough to time to line up their targets) was that whoever had the most firepower won. And Adelene knew it wasn't she who held the advantage. She could only hope the _Fury_ wasn't aiming for her.

She watched the range counting down faster than she could track. The reticule flashed red and she squeezed the trigger, sending out a hail of coherent light. Her target flashed into view and she saw several hits, armor peeling off her victim. But it wasn't enough and the _Fury _zipped overhead in a flash without firing.

And that was it. Adelene sagged into her seat once more, exhausted. She had her on chance at stopping the attack and she had failed. There was nothing more she could do now as the CEGA exos streaked into attack range of the fleet. As if her mood were some sort of cue, the fuel gauge let out an alert as her fighter consumed the last of its reaction mass and the thrum of her engine thrusters died, leaving her alone with the sound of her hard breathing once more.

1416 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

A dozen CEGA exos, mostly _Furies _and _Cerberuses_ were dashing through the web of defensive fire being thrown up by the JAF warships. The JAF warships opened fire with everything they had the moment the enemy craft came into range. A few explosions erupted in the cold, silent vacuum of space, marking the passing of Earther machines.

But the rate of closure was simply too great and even the fleet's combined firepower could not stop them all before they could carry out their lightning strike. The CEGA force flashed into range. Even though their window of opportunity lasted no more than five seconds, the surviving exos cut loose with everything they had. 

Missiles, particle beams, railgun slugs and hypergolic bazooka shells streaked through the void, mostly concentrated on one target – _Gilgamesh_. Even as the exos streaked through the Jovian fleet's formation, explosions were blossoming as their ordnance struck their targets. One of the _Furies_, already suffering a damage thruster, careened into the Jovian flagship's hull, coring a great maw through several decks before finally exploding.

The resulting explosion tore through several more decks, touching off the Jovian flagship's missile magazines. Even as the surviving CEGA exos sped off in the opposite direction, _Gilgamesh_ trembled as secondary explosions swept through her interior like a wave. Bulges appeared in the _Gilgamesh_'s armored hull like some grotesque metal blisters, then burst in molten hot splinters that spun crazily into space. 

Admiral Gordo Sullivan, commander of the Jovian peacekeeping force had only a fraction a second to realize what had happened before the command center of his flagship disintegrate with the passage of the expanding fireball engulfing the forward section of the _Gilgamesh_. 

1432 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

"Oh, God!"  Someone on the _Falchion_'s bridge gasped. One the display that provided them with an optical scan of the ship's surroundings, they could all see the horrific damage done to the fleet's flagship in the sudden exo attack.

Captain Andy Ho swallowed as the damage became apparent on-screen. It looked as if someone had just split the flagship open like a tin can. Several of her decks were visible, open to space and she resembled a gruesome cross-section cutaway that was more commonly found in technical manuals.

Deprived of her bridge and command spaces, there was no one to control her and already drifting out of position, her flaring engines and gravity combined forces to decide her course.

"_Gilgamesh_ is falling out of formation!" The navigator announced even though it could clearly be seen by all on the bridge. 

"Comms, try and raise them!" Captain Ho snapped, shaking off the shock of what had just happened. "Sensors, talk to me. Where are those enemy exos?"

"Looks like they're coming around for another attack!"

"Then I suggest you vector our exos after them."

"Captain! The _Gilgamesh_ . . .! She's . . ." The navigator looked back him with stark horror written all over her face. Captain Ho looked at the video screen and the image spoke for itself.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Instead of simply wallowing out of formation at cruising speed as it had begun, both her drives were flaring hotly now, increasing the stricken battleship's speed. 

"Sir, here particle defense shields are up at maximum power!" The sensor operator exclaimed. 

"Good heavens . . ."Even the normally reserved Andy Ho could not resist the urge to gasp, _Gilgamesh_ was had come out of its turn now and her course seemed fixed. Mars lay just beyond her crumpled prow. "Please, God, _no_ . . . We've got to stop her!"

Apparently, the captain of the destroyer _Troy_ seemed to realize what was going on as well and he maneuvered his ship in a manner that interposed his vessel with the _Gilgamesh_. It was a suicidal gesture and far from adequate. The _Athena_-class destroyer's top laser fin came off as the flagship's engine section collided with it. But the impact had hardly had any effect on the larger ship's course and she continued to barrel towards the planet.

"Navigator, plot _Gilgamesh_'s trajectory!" Ho said, his eyes fixed on the image of the warship that was being pulled down by the invisible tendrils of the Red Planet's gravity. 

"She's definitely headed for Mars . . . project point of impact is the Syria Planus!" The navigator stared at her instruments in shock as she did the rapid calculations.

"We've got to stop her!" 

Several escorts fired at the flagship in a vain attempt to knock her off course. It was a terrible thing to fire on one's own ships. But compared to the catastrophe that would occur should the battleship hit the planet . . .

But the Jovian command vessel was already too far away to be hit by the bulk of her escorts weaponry and the geometry was mostly wrong. There was no doubting where she was headed now – Mars.

And there was no stopping her now.

 "Speed is now 15 kps. She'll hit the atmosphere in ten seconds!" The navigator called out excitedly. "Sir, the damage will be . . ."

"_Belay that_! Someone find a way to warn our people on the ground!" But even as he gave the order, he knew it was almost too late.

1434 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213 

For what had seemed to be an eternity, the two exos had faced off. Both unwilling to move or take the first shot. The Jovian _Deliverer_, with Corporal Joshua Loke in the cockpit, still had its weapon trained on the _Defender Camel_ piloted by Hauptmann Peter Tan.

The Jovian corporal felt his finger hovering over the trigger. But something had stopped him from shooting. Maybe it was because the Federation exo pilot hadn't shot at him yet. From his vantage point, he could see that the Martian vehicle was already quite beat up with several deep gouges in the armor where railgun slugs had grazed it.

On the other hand, the Hauptmann Tan had stared at the Jovian, his heart thumping away in his chest as his hands poised over his controls to raise his weapon arm should it come to that. For now, his railgun was lowered so that he would not present a threat to the Jovian.

_How the hell do I defect now_? Peter asked himself. He realized that he hadn't given any thought to this part of defecting prior to his decision. _I can't just walk up to him and announce my intentions now_, _can I_? His mind had pondered the question in minutes that had dragged by.

There was a tinny sound in his ears. Some static. And then a voice. 

". . .leutnant . . .ker to Hauptmann . . . lease respond!"

_Becker_. Hauptman felt a stab of fear. The young Oberleutnant had always struck him as the zealous sort and he began to wonder what orders the man had received from higher command. He had not expected the man to have pursued him so doggedly though. 

_And even if he finds me_ . . . _what does he expect me to do_? _Reform the unit_? Peter shook his head. That was impossible now. The 12th _Sturmobergrupen_ had been completed scatter beyond all hope of regrouping. At least for this battle. A more ominous thought hit him. Did someone suspect his true intentions?

It was possible, he conceded. But it was unlikely that Becker would be one of them. If he had been instructed to hunt down a rogue and he wouldn't be simply running after him now, calling out to him. But then again, the Hauptmann had learnt a long time ago that things were never what they seem . . . especially in the Martian Federation.

He had to move soon or Becker would catch up with him. And he was sure that officer had no qualms about firing on a Jovian exo. He had to make his move _now_.

There was another voice on the radio now. On a general frequency. Amazingly, this one was free from enemy jamming and though atmospheric conditions and great range still interfered with the signal, the words were unmistakably clear. And panicked.

"All Federate units! Clear the Syria Planus! All Federate units! _Clear the __Syria__ Planus now_!"

Peter could sense the raw panic in that voice and whoever was giving that order had certainly lost it. The Syria Planus covered several _thousand_ square kilometers of the Martian surface. _How the hell is anyone going to clear the area in time for_ . . . He stopped in mid-thought. _In time for _what?

In front of him, he saw the Jovian's weapon arm waver and the exo, mimicking its operator's movements, was looking up into the sky. Peter followed suit and realized that nothing he had ever seen in his life could prepare him for the spectacle that played out before him now.

Like a fiery comet, something big was arching down towards the ground. Jacking up the magnification of his exo's optical sensors, he saw the barely recognizable shape of a spaceship. Well, at least it was what remained of a spaceship since most of it had been molten beyond recognition as it burned through the atmosphere. 

The sky had turned into a diffuse red now with the passing of this great, glowing, planetbound object. The sky in its wake seemed to be on fire and the plunging ship's arch was almost merging with the horizon. Peter felt an invisible hand gripping his heart as he checked noted the direction. _Kurtzenheim_ . . . _home_ . . . 

The knot in his gut grew ever tighter as it looked like only an inch now separated the streaking object from the horizon.

_Mein__ gott_ . . . _no _. . . 

There was a bright flash in the distance, more brilliant than a dozen suns. The sky seemed to change color and Peter saw a wall of light coming towards him, sweeping across the Martian surface. 

And then everything yielded to the magnificent all-encompassing radiance.

**1435 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"Get our people . . ." Captain Andy Ho turned to his communications operator.

"Captain!"  The navigator's cry was horrified and anguished at the same time.

  
"What the h . . ." And he stopped in mid-sentence at stared at the real-time video feed that showed Mars. They were already too late. "No, goddamn it . . . "

Even from high orbit, the blossoming explosion that marked _Gilgamesh_'s passing was visible. It looked like a tiny pinprick of light at first, but it rapidly grew into a palm-sized inferno on the video screen, the wall of fire expanding outwards in a destructive sphere.

"Confirmed. _Gilgamesh_ had hit Mars." The navigator said rather needlessly in a hoarse whisper.

"Sensors indicate that about forty percent of her mass remained intact to strike the planet," the sensor operator was trying to deliver his report calmly. "She was going at 12 kps when she hit."

"Sir . . . what do we do now?" The navigator looked at him helplessly. Captain Ho realized the rest of the brigde crew were watching him as well. Never in his entire life had he felt the burden of wearing those twin gold bars on his collar any more than he did now. For the first time in his career, he realized he did not know what to do.

**1436 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

The half-melted hulk of the JSS _Gilgamesh _had hit the Syria Planum while traveling at nearly twelve kilometers per second. The resulting detonation had no modern precedent. Anything at ground zero was instantly vaporized a crater, some five kilometers wide had been gouged out of the red earth.

The explosion itself was more powerful than a thousand nuclear explosions and a ring of fire emanated from the point of impact, sweeping outwards at several hundred kilometers and hour. Walls of flame, accompanied by choking dust and roiling winds swept through everything in their path for miles around, flattening hills and mountains and even cities.

The Martian Federation's capital had been no more then twenty kilometers away from ground zero and it had taken slightly over a minute for the blast wave to arrive. Military units as well as civilians who had gotten word of the impending disaster and were trying to flee the area could only watch helplessly as the tide of destruction rolled unstoppably forward, consuming everything in its path.

 Kurtzenheim's city domes, built to withstand the most potent of Mars' sandstorms, cracked and burst open as if they were merely eggshells. The city stood against the holocaust for a minute or two, and then like everything else before it, was swept away.

Hovertanks and exo armors fighting in the capitals vicinity were picked up and tossed around like toys while aircraft unfortunate enough to be in the way were hurled out of the sky and sent plummeting into the ground. Regular infantry and their exo-suited counterparts scattered for whatever cover they could find.  

Ground effect vehicles, such as tracked APCs and wheeled jeeps were tossed onto their sides while exo-suits were flung though the air like rag dolls. For the men who wore nothing more than their Mars suits, the superheated rush of air and fire was powerful to churn the boulders they were hiding behind into pebbles, leaving them not much chance for survival. 

And when the shockwave finally lost steam, what remained in its wake was the greatest sandstorm that the Red Planet had ever seen in recent years. Not that it would really matter to the six million Martians who had been living in that portion of the Syria Planum. Or the thousands of Martian, Jovian and Earther soldiers who had only minutes before been fighting against one another. 

**1439 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

Adelene could not find the words to even describe what she had just witness. It was utterly horrible. And yet, a part of her had stared at that corona of flame and smoke and felt a detached sense of awe and wonder at the raw beauty of such wanton destruction. 

She wasn't sure what appalled her more. The magnitude of the disaster, or the fact that she found the sight of _Gilgamesh_ crashing into Mars actually beautiful. She checked her radar screen. It seemed like everyone had stopped fighting the moment the Jovian ship's plunged had ended abruptly against the planetary surface.

Already, she could see the CEGA forces disengaging from the Jovian command task force which she had been asked to protect. They were scattering now and the Jovian exos, satisfied with the reprieve, made no attempt to pursue.

One of the _Syreens_ was burning away from the Jovian warships when it seemed to spot her.  She saw it change its course, tracing a wide graceful turn that brought it on a course towards her.

"Oh, _shit_ . . ." She reached out for the throttle and goosed it desperately even though she knew what the likely result would be.

Nothing. She had used up every last bit of her reaction mass in her effort to stop the exos that had been targeting _Gilgamesh_. When the fuel had run out, she had coasted along, confident that she would be recovered once the battle had ended.

But now an enemy exo had judged her to be easy pickings and was closing for the kill. And she was a sitting duck with nowhere to go. "This is Lancelot One! I'm in trouble here!"

There was nothing but static in her headset and she felt pure terror gripping her. She spoke urgently into her helmet pickup again. "This is Lancelot One! Someone . . . _anyone_, please help!"

The _Syreen_was coming out of its turn now, decelerating as it did. The pilot was coming on leisurely, taking the pleasure to indulge in a bit of target practice. Adelene felt totally helpless. She couldn't even turn her fighter's nose to face this enemy exo so that she could at least go down fighting.

Her hand rested on the ejection handle that was situated on her acceleration couch between her thighs. She felt the rigid, striped cord and took a deep breath. She did not relish the thought of ejecting from her fighter. And it wasn't a guarantee of survival. If her tormentor was particularly bloodthirsty, ejecting wasn't going to help. And even if that wasn't the case, an ejection pod's life support was far more limited as compared to staying in her fighter.

"I need help, damn it! Anyone . . .?"

A _Wyvern _was falling in behind the _Syreen_, coming in at full burn. Adelene felt her heart sink. If the _Syreen_ didn't finish her off, the _Wyvern_'s hypergolic bazooka would be more than enough to scatter her and her fighter across several hundred cubic kilometers of space.

Her hands tightened around the ejection handle as her pulse rate raced out of control. She would try to stay as long as possible, hoping that by some miracle, both exos would miss her. And even if they did hit her, she'd stay as long as possible. She had ejected once before and had almost died before rescue assets had reached her. She wasn't ready to relive those horrifying moments alone in space with her oxygen running out unless she absolutely had to.

A laser beam stabbed out at her. Even though she had tried to prepare herself for it, she had literally jumped in her seat as that spear of light snapped out at her, rasping off several inches of her right wingtip.

More laser beams were beginning to reach out for her when she saw something which she would consider even  more incredible than _Gilgamesh_'s demise. The _Wyvern _that had been following, closed right in behind the _Syreen_ and loosed off a single bazooka shell, _right_ _into the back of the _Syreen. 

The _Syreen_ pilot had been too engrossed with toying around with her to notice the _Wyvern_. Not that he or she would have expected to be fired upon by a friendly in any case. Either way, the result was the same. The legless exo's thin armor collapsed under the impact of the exploding shell, and fires fed greedily on the onboard store of reaction mass before the entire craft and its pilot disintegrated in a ball of incandescent gas.

And then the _Wyvern _was streaking towards her, leaving the dead _Syreen_ in its wake. For a moment, she thought she was the CEGA exo wave at her before barreling past her without so much as firing a shot.

She stared at the glowing thrusters of the _Wyvern_ as it raced away from her, leaving her alone once more in the deathly still silence of space around Mars. She still couldn't believe what she had just seen. Checking her radar scope again, she noted that all the other CEGA exos were headed away from the Jovian fleet. More importantly, no one was fleeing her way.

Looking back now at the tiny speck that had been her saviour, Adelene allowed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you . . . whoever you are." And then she slumped back into her acceleration couch and waited.

**1441 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"This is Oberst Amara Azura of the Martian Bundesarmee." The face on the screen kept jumping and fading in and out though the static-laced audio was clearly audible. The transmission was coming in over public channels. 

Captain Andy Ho stared at the pale, narrow-faced woman with grey hair whose image was projected before all of them. She was wearing the crimson red jacket with gold piping of the Martian Federal Army dress uniform. The rank tabs denoting her status as an Oberst were pinned prominently on her high collars. 

"Kurtzenheim has been totally destroyed. Premierminister von Braun is dead." She announced quietly though everyone could hear her clearly. "In the absence of a leader, I, Oberst Amara Azura am assuming control of the Federation for the duration of the crisis."

Andy Ho didn't want to know just how much of the Federation's power structure had gone with the loss of Kurtzenheim. An Oberst was the Federation equivalent of a Jovian Colonel in terms of rank, though they were equal in their power and authority to Jovian Generals.

"On behalf of my nation and the planet of Mars, I wish to appeal to all belligerent parties to comply with an immediate ceasefire. As a sign of my good will to the Martian Free Republic, I am ordering all Federate forces to stand down and cease offensive action. They will still return fire should they be fired upon." She paused for a moment then looks straight into the camera pickup and spoke again. Captain Ho could see that she was forcing herself to speak. The words were not coming easily. "I would also respectfully request the Jovian and CEGA fleets to cease hostilities with one another and to commence search and rescue operations immediately. I will allow rescue shuttles from either side to land on Mars to retrieve any personnel who are currently planetside. These operations should be conducted with the utmost speed, after which it is my earnest hope for both parties to disengaged and withdraw, leaving Mars to deal with her problems."

There was another pause. A longer one this time. "I _implore_ all sides to agree to and honor this ceasefire. _Please_ . . . there has been enough blood shed today." Azura was looking at someone or something off-screen now. "With immediate effect, all Federate forces on and around Mars are standing down and withdrawing to defensive positions. Please . . . help stop this madness . . ."

She stared once more at the camera, choked with emotion before she finally said. "This is Oberst Azura, Martian Bundesarmee . . . signing off. God help us all."

_Indeed_, Captain Ho thought to himself. _God help us indeed_. He sat in hic command chair in silence for a very long while before he turned to face his communications operator. "Any instructions from anyone on our side." 

"Not as of yet. No one has assumed command at this time." The comms operator shrugged. "But I'm picking up transmissions from the other task forces indicating that CEGA forces have already disengaged and are deploying rescue craft. Several of our ships are also commencing search and rescue operations now."

"Very well. I suggest we get started too then."

**1451 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

Peter came to and noticed that it was dark in the exo's cockpit. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. When the blast wave had hit them, he hard remember trying to keep his exo upright. But it had all been in vain and he had been swept away, tumbling over and over into the desert, blacking out before he had come to a stop.

Testing the linear frame tentatively, he managed to bring his exo up onto his knees. He stared at his sensor display, scanning for the Jovian exo. He needn't have bothered. Either the sensor arrays had been fried or the cockpit instruments had been destroyed. The radar screen was blank.

He rotated his exo, scanning the area around him. What had once been rolling slopes and ridges had now been flattened. In the recently transformed landscape, it had only taken a moment to spot what he was looking for. 

The Jovian exo lay on its back in a crumpled but still-recognizable heap. But over it stood a one-armed _Defender_ with a familiar paint scheme. It's railgun was aimed at the Jovian exo's cockpit.

"Becker!" Peter yelled into his pickup. Apparently, the Oberleutnant had heard him since the railgun lowered and the _Defender _turned towards him.

"Hauptmann?"

Peter realized that there was no turning back now. They were probably the only three people for miles around now. And he didn't think Becker was going the spare the Jovian pilot, He had seen some of the things this officer had done to Republican prisoners. It wasn't pretty. And then Becker would probably become suspicious even if Peter pulled rank to get the Jovian spared. And the Jovian was his only chance at defecting.

"Herr Hauptmann?" Becker repeated, his voice wavering slightly.

Peter hardened his heart and brought his railgun up in one fluid motion, and then triggered a single ten-centimeter slug right into the other _Defender_'s cockpit. Becker's exo staggered as the cockpit caved in from the hit. And then the one-armed _Defender_ sagged and tumbled forward drunkenly into the Martian sand. 

He suppressed the urge to sob. He had just killed one of his own. And in the distance, he knew Kurtzenheim, his home, was no more. His exo stumbled a few more steps forward to the fallen Jovian exo before the leg units finally failed. The _Defender Camel _fell unceremoniously onto its side, never to rise again.

In the cockpit, the Federation Hauptmann spared the other destroyed Martian machine one last look. He felt the pangs of guilt coming again but he shoved those thoughts away. Becker deserved what he got, he told himself as he pulled the jettison handle above his head. The cockpit hatch blew open and a wave of heat hit him. He checked his suit's environmental scanners.

It was slightly 'hot' outside though the radiation levels were not anywhere near dangerous proportions yet. Pounding the quick release stud for his linear frame harness, he felt the restraints go slack and he allowed himself the short plunge out of his machine's cockpit and onto the soft sand below.

It took him only a moment to recover from the fall though he felt like every part of him was aching when he finally stood and began to stagger over to the Jovian exo armor. Smoke was billowing from the joints of the machine and several gashes in its armor. Its guts were spilled out in some places, wires, myomer bundles and other components hanging out of ruptures in the metal body. 

He reached down to his thigh holster and retrieved the gyroc pistol that he always carried with him. It always paid to be prepared. There was no telling how the Jovian pilot would react to him . . . if he were still alive. 

He was moving faster now and he finally came up to the small mountain of metal that was partially embedded in the soft sand. The cockpit hatch was open, facing skyward. There was evidence to suggest that the cockpit had been torn open by the metal-shod hands of another exo. Peter knew it _had_ to be Becker's work. He spared a glance over his shoulder and noted with satisfaction that there was no sign of life in Becker's _Defender_. That railgun slug must have pulped him as it passed through.

Hauptmann Tan made his way up with the help of handholds and he finally reach the open cockpit. The pilot was still inside. The short, squat, bespectacled man who wore the stripes of a corporal was choking at the acrid smoke that surrounded him as he struggled with the linear frame restraints that had been entangled with his body.

The Jovian saw him and stopped thrashing abruptly, eyes widening at the sight of Peter's uniform and gyroc pistol. The man swallowed visibly, then squared his jaw in an attempt to look defiant and resolute.

"Corporal Joshua Loke, Jovian Armed Forces. Serial number . . ."

Peter held out a hand to stop the man. Then he flipped the pistol around so he was now grasping its barrel and handed it over to the Jovian.

"Hauptmann Peter Tan, 12th _Sturmobergrupen_, Martian Bundesarmee." Then with the slightest of grins at the corporal's astonishment, he added. "It is _I_ who wish to be your prisoner."  


	5. Episode Four: Reactions

**The Storm's Path #1**

**Episode 4: Reactions**

_Yesterday, __December 7, 1941__—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of American was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of __Japan__._

-President Franklin D. Roosevelt-

**1514 HOURS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

It had taken awhile for Hauptmann Peter Tan to extricate the Jovian corporal from the mangled wreckage of the _Deliverer_'s cockpit. His fatigue as well as the numbness of just having watched him home vaporized by the tragic cataclysm wrought upon Mars had slowed his efforts.

But the Jovian exo pilot was finally pulling himself out of the cockpit though it looked like he was favoring his left arm. _Broken, perhaps?_ Seeing that he couldn't get out with only one hand for support, Peter reached out and pulled the man out. In his excitement the Jovian and bumped his left arm against the side of the wreck and that had sent the man yelping in pain. _Definitely broken_ . . . 

"Are you alright?" Peter asked.

"It's just an arm. If I had to break anything, it might as well have been an arm." The shorter man said through gritted teeth. "As they say, any landing you can walk away from is a good one."

"I suppose so." Peter replied as he helped the man sit down on top of the destroyed exo armor. "That's a hell of sight."

Joshua looked up and stared at the enormous pillar of flame, smoke and dust that was rising tens of thousands of feet into the sky. The sky had turned crimson now a heavy haze hung overhead. The red Martian sand had been blown away, the intensity of the blast so severe that patches of blackened glass marked where sand dunes had once existed. 

Thick clouds of dust and smoke still roiled skyward and outward from ground zero, which seemed like ten to fifteen kilometers away. And yet the blast had been powerful enough to bowl their fifty-ton exos over as if they weighed nothing.

"It's almost pretty." Corporal Joshua Loke said quietly, studying the spectacle of wanton destruction before his eyes. He leaned back against his _Deliverer_ and let out a tired sigh.

"That is . . . _was_ home." 

"I'm sorry . . . ."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn't do anything to cause that." He pointed at the tongue of flame and smoke that marked the area where Kurtzenheim had once occupied. "Now we're in a hell of jam and I can only pray our national leaders will know how to get us out of this."

"So what happens now, sir?" Joshua eyed his Martian Federation counterpart carefully. He still had the man's pistol tucked into his utility belt. "You seriously want to defect?"

"Joshua . . . can I call you that?" Peter waited for the man's nod before continuing. "If I wasn't serious, you'd have a gyroc round in your head and your brains would be splattered all over your cockpit by now."

"That's a nice thought, sir."

"You can call me Peter. I am your prisoner after all." The Hauptmann shrugged. "There is nothing for me here now. And after what I just did, I'd be shot if I ever went back." He looked back at the crumpled hulk of Becker's _Defender_. The man shook his head sadly and let out a long sigh. 

"Thanks for the save, Peter. I owe you one."

"Well, then you can repay me the debt by getting me off this planet."

**1549 HRS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

"I'm picking up a beeper out there alright." Sergeant Aaron Ng manipulated the joysticks that were recessed in the exo suit's arms and the _Falconer_ rotated on the spot.

The flashing blip on his helmet radar display was now dead ahead and he applied a bit of thrust, burning precious fuel from the tanks in his oversized shoulder pods. Chugging along at 0.4 g, he could make out the debris field just ahead. 

He knew for certain that he was staring at the remains of a Jovian exo. Amongst the debris was the recognizable, bulky head section that characterized all Jovian Armor Works designs. Other distinguishing features amongst the remains were the blasted leg assemblies with their thigh storage compartments for plasma lances.

"You picking this up?" the Sergeant said into his lip mike, addressing his companion who was following closely behind him.

"Yeah." Private Alan Chua replied. "Looks like we've found ourselves a survivor after all, Sarge."

"We're getting close. Better go slow." The Jovian marine sergeant cut in with a touch of his retros and felt his exo-suit losing velocity. While he kept his eye on the display that showed the position of the emergency locator beacon, he also kept a lookout since the source of the emissions could come into visual range at anytime.

The blip merged with the center of the display, his radar no longer able to differentiate the distance between the beacon and the exo. Moving cautiously through the debris field, the sergeant began to pick through the bits and pieces, using his manipulators arms to push some of the larger pieces out of the way.

It was slow going. Whatever had killed this exo had done a rather spectacular job of spreading the pieces over a large volume of space. And yet the escape pod, if that had truly been the source of the signal, was still invisible to them. 

"Damn . . ." Private Chua complained as he picked through the half-intact wreckage of what had been the . "Who would have thought they could squeeze so much crap into a single exo."

"Can it, Alan," growled the sergeant. "Keep your eyes peeled. I don't want you flying into that pod by mistake."

"Yes, Sarge. I hear and I obey." The junior marine said laconically. 

"Very funny, Alan," he grunted in reply. With his thrusters, he ducked under the floating foot section of the exo and pulled up into a thick cloud of wreckage. The smaller pieces pelted his suit with no effect but he had to avoid the larger sections, mostly chunks of armor.

"Hey, look what I found . . ." Alan was crowing over the radio. "Think we've got ourselves a live one."

Sergeant Aaron Ng allowed himself a smile even though it hadn't been he who found the source of the signal. Looking back to his buddy's location, he saw an escape pod drifting in space. He gave himself a boost with his thrusters, closing the gap between him and his companion.

"So what do we have here?" Aaron asked as he came to a stop before the pod. 

Let's see, Sarge." Alan reached out with his manipulator arm and rolled the pod over in an attempt to get a look at the squadron markings on the other side.

The pod rolled over revealing its crushed side. The access hatch swung slight open, revealing the damaged interior. 

It was empty.

"Now what the . . .?" Aaron gasped as he pulled the hatch open and stared in to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. 

"Aw, shit. All this way for nothing?" Private Alan Chua's tone was incredulous. "And he was a squadron commander to boot."

"Hmm?"

"Says so on the pod." Alan indicated by jabbing his manipulator at the dented hide of the pod. "Of the Deathwings flying off the _Facilitator_."

"He might have been thrown clear." Aaron said, looking around. "It's a slim chance but he may yet be alive."

"Alright . . . Hey! I think I see something." Alan said, suddenly igniting his thrusters and speeding off. 

"What . . ." But the private was already rocketing away from the main debris field. And then Chua's _Falconer_ had come to an abrupt halt. The Sergeant who had barreled after him had to swerve away at the last minute to avoid colliding into his partner. 

Private Alan Chua was holding something in his manipulator arms and Sergeant Ng was almost sure he could see the smile behind the man's helmet. "Does this earn me more off time the next time we're in port, Sarge?"

It was a pilot in a Jovian A-9 flight suit, wearing the rank tabs of a Captain and the colored patches of the Deathwings. And he was still alive.

**1558 HRS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213**** – **

The masses that had gathered outside had been silent for many minutes. 40-minute-old video feeds from Mars, recorded several hours ago had finally reached every screen in the Axis Park, in Olympus and the whole Confederation, which had moments ago been prepared to kick off the Centennial Celebration.

The images were coming in quick and furious now, as fast as the speed of light could beam the them across the inky black void that separated Mars from Jupiter. The balloons were dropping slowly to the ground and food grew cold and the upbeat music had all but died off. 

The sights and sounds of Jovians and Earthers dying in the space around Mars, millions of kilometers away had seized everyone's attention. Here and there someone would gasp or sob at as the true implications of what was happening finally struck home.

In the Presidential suite atop the grand Parnassus Hotel on Joshua's Station, Gateway to Olympus, President Alexandra Itangre was laughing through her tears. Her makeup beginning to run in ugly streaks down the sides of her face as she turned to face Councilor Ignatius Chang. The emissary from Earth was characteristically silent.

"You idiots . . ." She shook her head, still laughing. The sound had a choked, bitter quality to it. "I can't believe you'd be willing to do this to yourselves. Pandora's Box indeed."

Ignatius Chang was seated in a green easy chair on the other side of the room, growing uncomfortable under her gaze. He stared coldly at her. Both of them had seen each other go through the same emotions in the past hours as they watched the news from Mars, feeling absolutely helpless at the knowledge that anything they tried to do would be at least forty minutes too late.

On several occasions, they had allowed their anger and frustration to spill out at each other. Chang had not allowed himself to vent his anger verbally, but Itangre did not possess such self-control. At this moment, everything she had done to build up the Confederation seemed to be dying like the warships that were being pulverized by particle beams, guided missiles and kinetic energy slugs. She needed to scream at something . . . or someone. And Chang seemed like the perfect candidate.

The beeping of the message printer on the wall diverted her attention and she watched as the thin sheet of plastic began to emerge from the device. It was on government stationery and the seal of the Agora was at the bottom.

"You _know_ what that's going to be, don't you?" She asked him pointedly.

"Only if your Agora is as easily driven to fury." Chang answered quietly, holding returning her gaze coolly.

The President of the Jovian Confederation pulled the document free and read the short message. Her hand nearly shook but she commanded it, _willed_ it to be steady. She re-read the message again and looked up at Chang. An expression akin to concern or fear – most likely the latter – made itself apparent on his face. She raised her voice slightly and spoke, "It's war, Chang, if I want it."

The Councilor from Earth nodded, his face betraying absolutely nothing. "So, President Itangre. War. What will you do?"

"You haven't got the guts for a war, Chang. I know at least that much about you. It takes two to start a war, and the CEGA won't want to." She took one last look at the sheet and tossed it down on a nearby table, stepping closer to Chang. His bodyguard shifted slightly, watching the Jovian President cautiously. "The Jovian Confederation and CEGA are at war as of now, Councilor. It's up to you to get your nation out of this before it's too late for you."

Chang shook his head slowly and she could see the infinite sadness in his eyes. "Actually, Madam President, the situation is out of my hands." He reached into a pocket and retrieved a plastic message fax similar to the one that Itangre had held. He place it on the table to to the message from the Agora. "This arrived before I came up here. The CEGA council got the news long before we did and voted without me. As far as Earth is concerned, we've been at war for the past four hours. You're right, President Itangre. It takes two to start a war. I had nothing to do with it, though."

Alexandra Itangre felt something warm in her. Suddenly, she realized she could end the disputes with the CEGA once and for all. Acceptable costs and troop mobilization times were coming to mind now. This was the perfect opportunity, the perfect _excuse_ to reach for what she long desired. Fame, power . . .  _Earth_. 

"If this is what the CEGA wants, then you'll get it."

Chang rose from his seat and turned his back to her, moving towards the exit, his bodyguard falling in behind him. "No, Madam President, I don't think it's what my nation wants. I think there's still a way out, before we leave this room. Take it, please. If nothing else, because your people won't want this. If you start a war, be prepared to see it through, though both our worlds will pay the price."

The President of the Jovian Confederation felt her lust for battle get the better of her and she snarled at his retreating back. "Of course I'll see it through, you spineless fool. The people want this. They want what _I _want. I _am_ the Jovian Confederation, Chang."

**1611 HRS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

The whole world was going to shit. 

That's was the only thought in Private Candice Yap's mind as she scrambled down the passageway toward the hangar bay. Private Adora Cheong, her best buddy from Flight Training was just ahead of her, booted feet pounding into the metal below them. Overhead, the speakers continued to churn out that mournful klaxon.

The pair exploded into the hangar bay where their squadron's fighters were lined up. Other pilots were already there and the deckhands were swarming over the fighters, struggling to prepare them for flight.

"What's going on, Dora?" Candice gasped as they made their way over to their fighters. 

"I don't know! Someone said something about a war!" Adora yelled back breathlessly as she reached her _Lancer_ and began to climb up the access ladder leading into the cockpit.

"But I thought that was all the way over in Mars!" Candice said, stopping short of her own _Lancer_ interceptor. 

"Will you two ladies stop yakking and get strapped in?" That was Lieutenant Ishigawa, the commander of the _Lancer_ squadron based on Joshua's Station, the gateway to Olympus and the heart of the Confederation. 

Adora and Candice exchanged looks, shrugged and proceeded to strap into their fighters without further delay. One moment, they had been watching the news feed from Mars, telling of the grand melee that was taking place there and now the order had come for them to man their fighters.

It didn't make sense to activate the whole squadron unless there was some imminent threat to the station. But as the klaxon continued to wail, there was no indication whatsoever that this was a drill. 

_The world _is _going to shit_, the thought came to Candice again as she went through her pre-flight checklist. She was still relatively new to the _Lancer_ and she couldn't do it quite as fast as some of the others in the squadron. 

Her heart pounded with excitement. Was it true? Were they really going to war? She looked over at her friend who sat in the fighter next to hers, wanting to say something in case this was really _it_. But Private Adora Cheong was already pulling her flight helmet over her head.

Candice took one last breath of fresh air before she pulled her own helmet on, flattening her ponytail in the process. For a moment, she could head nothing but the raspy sound of her own breathing in that tight-fitting helmet. The visor fogged up at her warm breath. But then she plugged the life support umbilical to the node in her cockpit and immediately, she felt the cool air blowing against her face. Stabbing the connection jack for her headset into her communications module, she heard the faint static that told her that she was receiving. Switching over to the squadron channel, she could hear their squadron leader speaking.

". . . squadron will be on Ready Five. The rest of us will launch to commence patrols immediately."  The voice was saying. "Should you encounter any ship from the CEGA Navy, you have clearance to engage and terminate with extreme prejudice."

"Lieutenant Ishigawa, sir," Candice heard Adora's voice in her headset. "Sir, are we at war?"

"There's no official word yet, but we can expect the President to make a formal declaration within the hour." Ishigawa replied in his trademark, high-pitched voice. Gamma Division is going on Red Alert now. All colony defense forces in Olympus are now at Yellow Alert."

"That means we get to fly?" 

"Weren't you listening, Private?" Ishigawa snapped. "I just called for a half squadron launch. You are staying on the deck on Ready Five."

"While you go out and have all the fun . . ." Candice muttered.

"What was that, Private Yap?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all." _Sheesh_, _you'd think he'd ease up on being such a jerk now that we're in a shooting war. _Candice shook her head as she prepared herself for the four hours that she was sure would be spent waiting in her cockpit until something actually happened. But this far away from Mars, she sincerely doubted if they would be getting into the war so soon. 

Next to her, she could see the deckhands preparing the first six _Lancers_, Ishigawa's included, for launch. All across the Confederation,hundreds of combat pilots were about to embark on their very first wartime patrol.

**1630 HRS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

The rank tabs on Warrant Officer (O) Sean Yeo's collar were barely a week old. On leave home leave after his graduation from Officer Training School, he was an officer without a command. He and his family had all been set to be part of the Centennial Celebration of Inception Day when they found the screens showing images of the fighting around Mars instead of festive programming.

There had been no question in his mind then and there what had to be done. He had packed his bag, said goodbye to his family and head straight for the spaceport in hopes of finding a shuttle to Khannan Base where he was temporarily stationed.

Apparently, scores of other JAF personnel had had the same idea and the spaceport lounge where he waited was filled with men and women in uniforms waiting for shuttles that would take them to Khannan or wherever they were stationed.

The multimedia screens above them continued to feed updates on the situation around Mars. Most of it was commentary and opinion now. Very little of it was about the details of what was actually going on. Panels of 'experts' were now trying to explained what had gone wrong in orbit above the Red Planet.

There was also the constant bombardment of images of the _Gilgamesh_ taking her final plunge into the Syria Planum. Dozens of stations were carrying different versions of what had happened. There was talk about STRIKE saboteurs, a CEGA plot and many other speculative opinions on just how the Jovian flagship had simply spun out of control and dived into the planet at full power. One thing remained undisputed though. This was undeniably a disaster of horrendous proportions. Reports were beginning to reveal that the situation could well be worse than the Fall of the Martian Elevator back in 2210. An estimated six million people lived in the blast zone.

Suddenly, the video feed of the battle and the horrific aftermath of the _Gilgamesh_'_s _last plunge were replaced by a single word that leap out at everyone who was watching the news. Even though he had known it was coming, it still made his heart skip a couple of beats. 

WAR! That word was on every screen in the lounge now. On the massive billboards normally used for advertisements facing the departure hall, the word was flashed for all to see. WAR!

Across all the channels, the message was the same. The programming was being interrupted now by an emergency address by President Itangre herself. A moment later, her face was on every screen in the Confederation, her intense gaze seeming to be directed at every citizen in the Solar System.

"My fellow Jovians, today is a sad day for the Confederation. At or about 1130 hrs this morning, the Jovian peacekeeping force in orbit around Mars, while attempting to assist a damaged Solar Cross vessel was suddenly attacked by CEGA and Martian Federation forces. The resulting battle is still going on as I am addressing to you."

The President pushed back a lock of her trademark dyed-white hair and stared at the camera with those famous dark-lined eyes. "At 1200 hrs the CEGA council convened for an emergency session which lasted all of ten minutes. At 1210 hrs, the Central Earth Government and Administration declared war against the Confederation." Itangre stared at the screen, setting her jaw. "This means that they have been at war against us for the last four and half hours while we have harbored false hopes of avoiding further bloodshed. That both our nations have been unable to resolve our problems by exhausting all diplomatic means before resorting to the use of force, I feel compelled to take the following actions."

She paused, as if for dramatic effect, producing a shaking fist which she allowed to strike the podium with a loud thud. She exhaled slowly and noisily, allowing her fatigue and sadness to show. "My fellow Jovians, it's both tragic and regrettable that events should lead us on this path to violence from which there is no escape. It is with a heavy heart that I must announce that an official state of war now exists between the Jovian Confederation and the Central Earth Government and Administration. All military forces at our disposal are being brought to alert now to meet the threat from Earth."

Alexandra Itangre's features softened and Sean was almost sure he could see tears welling up in her eyes. "The Jovian Confederation does not want war and never saw war as a solution for the tensions between our nations. I feel sorry for the families of those who have already died or are about to die in this great conflict. My only assurance to you is that they will not have died in vain. I promise you that." 

And then the President looked like she was about to break down. As usual, she was delivering this speech on the spot as she always did, without the help of a pre-written script or even notes to help her along. Everyone in Confederation could see her in that moment of weakness and vulnerability as she looked down at the podium, fighting back the tears. When she looked back up at the camera, the sadness had receded, replace by strength and resolve.

"Make no mistake, we are willing and prepared to see this conflict to its final resolution. We will use whatever means necessary to meet the naked aggression of our foes and defeat them in the field of battle and destroy their ability to make war. We will accept no other outcome than the total defeat of Earth's forces through unconditional surrender or planetary conquest. To this end, we shall pledge our toil, our treasures and above all, our lives. May the gods be with us all."

And with that the President's speech was over. There was silence in the lounge as the screens retuned to their coverage on the developments around Mars. There was silence but it was soon giving way to murmurs exchanged between all everyone who was waiting for a shuttle flight.

Then he finally became aware of the fact that his personal communicator was beeping. Several other ringtones were beginning to sound and Sean answered the call. The voice on the line was feminine but stiff, all-business. "Warrant Officer Sean Yeo?"

"Yes."

"Sergeant Kristoff, Gamma Division Marine Command Headquarters. I regret to inform you that your leave has been cancelled and you are hereby instructed to report to us as soon as possible." 

"I'm already on my way." There was no reply before the line went dead. "Friendly . . ." Sean said to no one in particular and glanced up at the departures board. The next shuttle to Khannan would be leaving in ten minutes. _Well, Sean _. . .  _looks like the war for you has started_ . . .

**1927 HRS – ****30 AUGUST, 2213******

They had sat atop the dented, chest armor of the _Deliverer _about four hours. Their combat suits had kept them relatively safe from the rads that were bombarding the area they were in. With both their exos out of action, there was no point in going anywhere.

The nearest civilization _had_ been Kurtzenheim, which was totally lost amidst a choking radioactive cloud now. And since the entire area had been blasted flat, there were no landmarks to navigate by. No way to tell which direction they should travel in since everywhere they looked, they saw flattened Martian landscape. It was as if they were sitting in the middle of an immense dead zone.

And besides, if a search party did come looking for survivors, it would be easier if they strayed with the wreck exos, rather than taking off on their own with limited supplies into the wasteland that now surrounded them.

While the communications packages in their exos had been wiped out by blast or electromagnetic pulse damage, Joshua had managed to fire up the emergency beacon attached to his suit. It wasn't much, but at least it was transmitting. And considering the environs they were in, a single emergency transmitter was going to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

But so far, there hadn't been any sign of rescue. And the battery for the beacon wasn't going to last forever. It was getting darker now. The setting sun long having been obscured by the reddish haze that hung over them. "You think anyone's going to come for us?" Joshua said quietly, nursing his arm.

"I'm sure someone's picked up the signal." Peter wasn't looking at him when he said that. "I'm sure someone did."

"We're pretty deep in Federate territory I just hope it isn't anyone of your people." Joshua looked at the pall of smoke that marked the _Gilgamesh_'s final resting place. A little bit before that was Kurtzenheim. Or what was left of it. There was no doubt in his mind what fate had befallen the capital of the Martian Federation.

"For your sake and mine, I hope not too." Peter answered his voice tinged with worry now.

The pinkish glow in the distance was beginning to disappear under the horizon now and Peter began to regret that he wasn't wearing a complete Martian survival suit. Even though there was enough atmosphere to sustain life on Mars, it could still get _awfully_ cold in the night. 

There was a mechanical whine, coming from above and both men sat up suddenly, straining to hear. Peter noticed Joshua's right hand going to the pistol tucked in his belt. The sound was getting closer and now they were both sure it was a flying vehicle since their surroundings were so flat they'd spot any ground effect vehicles before they heard them.

"There!" Peter pointed to the gathering gloom. 

Joshua looked and out of the veil of dust came the familiar shape of a shuttle, with navigation and landing lights blazing away. It was coming down for them. _One of ours_ . . . Joshua wasn't quite ready to celebrate yet, his grip tightening on the gyroc pistol that Peter had surrendered to him. _Or one of theirs_ . . . he looked over at the Federate officer. Peter's face was pensive and anxious.

The shuttle was beginning to circle them now, losing altitude as it came. Joshua squinted in an attempt to see the national insignia painted on the shuttle's side but he couldn't make it out because of the heavy layers of dust that still hung in the air.

There was another sound. A higher pitched whine that the first, coming from above the shuttle. Two sleek deadly shapes burst of out the darkness, twin infernos spearing from their engine thrusters. Fighters. The pair came on, wingtip to wingtip, swooped down at them and then burst right over them at the speed of sound, the peals of sonic booms straining to catch up with them.

"_Peacekeepers_!" Joshua was ecstatic as he watched the fighters soaring back into the sky. "They're Jovian!"

"And so is that shuttle!" Peter was laughing, the first time Joshua had heard that sound from the man since they've met. 

True enough, the shuttle was beginning its landing cycle now, hovering not more than twenty meters away from them. The spotlights illuminating the red cross that denoted her status as a search and rescue shuttle. The only thing that made both men happier was the fact that there were spotlights on the national insignia as well. The unmistakable Jovian thunderbolt.

The shuttle pilot flared at the very last moment, then set down the craft gently. The ramp had been coming down even before touch down and the moment there was contact with the ground, a squad to Jovian marines, clad in _Decker_ exo suits, toting some rather mean weaponry for a rescue team.

Two of the five marines took station next to the landing ramp, covering the portal with their deadly 9mm chainguns. The remaining three marines approached them now, assault rifles held casually in gauntleted hands.

"Well, looks like this is it." Peter said as he rose slowly.

It seemed as if the marine leader suddenly realized that Peter was wearing the combat suit of a Federate exo pilot since the mean-looking assault rifle came up in a flash.

"_Freeze_! Hands up!"

Corporal Joshua Loke staggered to his feet as Peter raised his hands. The Jovian pilot stared at the squad leader's _Decker_ and noted that he was a Master Sergeant. "It's ok, Sarn't Major. He's with me."

"And who are you?" The rifle was lowered now and the man raised his faceplate. The other two marines still had their rifles trained unwaveringly at them. 

"Corporal Joshua Loke, Gamma Division exo pilot, off the JSS _Flame_."

"Master Sergeant Ron Foo, formerly of the Martian Peacekeepers. Now back with the JSS _Rommel_." The marine didn't quite smile. "We're here to rescue you, Corporal."

"Much obliged, Sarn't Major." Joshua took his first tentative step down from his exo. Peter wasn't far behind him.

"He stays here, Corporal." Ron said, pointing an armor-shod finger at Peter. "I'm under orders to only retrieve JAF personnel."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"Let his own people pick him up, Corporal." The Master Sergeant was getting impatient now. "We're not here to pick up prisoners."

"Then I must tell you that I will not be going with you as a prisoner-of-war." Peter said and he saw the flash of anger in the marine's eyes. This was a man who looked like he just had a very bad day. "I am Hauptmann Peter Tan, Executive Officer, Twelfth _Sturmobergrupen,_ Martian BundesArmee. And I am seeking asylum with your nation."

"What the hell . . .?" The marine fixed the Federate officer with a hard look, then turned to the corporal.

"He wants to defect." Joshua explained simply.

Master Sergeant Ron Foo staggered back as if he had been slapped and he shot the officer an astonished look. "Sir, you must be mad."

"No, Master Sergeant." Peter said mildly. "I am defecting."

The marine looked at both exo pilots for a moment longer and the tension was palpable as Ron agonized over what to do. He had been tasked to bring back JAF survivors from the blast zone. No one had mentioned anything about Federate defectors.

"Well, Sarn't Major?"

"Damn, if it hasn't been a crazy day already." The Master Sergeant shook his head, exasperated. "Alright, you two. Let's get going! We're clocking up rads here!"

The two pilots grinned at each other and wasted no time in scrambling down from the _Deliverer_ and following the marines aboard the shuttle.

**0348 HRS – ****31 AUGUST, 2213******

Private Breanna Chan struggled under the weight of her duffel bag. Even though she, like most Jovians, had live out their entire lives in gravity raging from 0.3 to 0.6 times of Earth standard, there was no denying that the weight on her shoulders was a heavy one indeed. And even if the weight wasn't a problem, there was still the issue of bulk and mass to contend with. 

And Breanna Chan didn't have a shoulder nearly broad enough to bear a duffel bag half the size that she was hauling with her. So she had slipped the strap around her shoulder and dragged it along, the strip of fabric cutting deep into her collarbone, making her wince and huff at the effort.

"What's the matter? Having a bit of trouble with your bag?" That was Private John Cheah, her buddy who had been with her from Day One of her career in the Jovian Armed Forces. They had met during the Basic Instruction phase of their training on Khannan Base where both had been offered a slot in the prestigious exo-armor arm of the JAF after going through a battery of simulator evaluations.

They had then attended Flight Training together where she had beaten him to soloing in the venerable EAT-02 _Mentor_ trainer exo by just a few hours. She had mastered the fine arts of formation flying and evasive maneuvering while John had been tapped as a more aggressive sort of pilot, acing the Basic Exo Strike module of their training. 

From there, they had gone on to the Frame Training Upgrade where both of them had learnt to pilot the ubiquitous _Pathfinder_ Alpha. John, being the firepower junkie that he was, had wanted so very badly to get his hands on the controls of a _Vindicator_. But they had completed Flight School with that dream thankfully unrealized. He was already insufferable when he complained about not having the opportunity to fly a _Vindicator_. Breanna shuddered to imagine what he'd be like the moment he _had_ that chance.

"Oh, shut up, John." Breanna said over her shoulder. "Unless you want to carry it for me!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sticks and stones . . ." Her burly companion muttered as he hefted the weight on his shoulder easily, stepping through the airlock that led from the shuttle bay into the main hub of Yin-wang's starport.

The shuttle ride over to Olympus Colony Cylinder 24, better known as Yin-wang, from Khannan Base had been a relatively short one, lasting no more than forty-five minutes from boarding to disembarkation. Home to 2.4 million residents and sprawling shipyards that accounted for a sizeable percentage of the Confederation's commercial shipping tonnage, Yin-wang had been amongst two dozen or so colonies in Olympus to be labeled as 'high value assets' which would require increased protection with the advent of war.

Fresh out of their training, both Breanna and John had been assigned to the Yin-Wang Defense Squadron which was currently understrength. The starport was crowded, with a certain note of hurry in everyone's movements. Still, the civilians did give way when they saw two JAF personnel coming through, bulging duffel bags on their shoulders. The activity at Khannan had been even more frenzied with a constant flow of shuttles arriving and departing every moment. 

There had been a battalion of marines shipping out for Elysee at about the same time that the two of them had departed from Khannan. It seemed impossible to make sense of the troop movements that were taking place at Gamma Division's base. Just overnight, ship movements had seemed to increase several fold. Thousands of crew who had been on leave for the Inception Day vacation had suddenly been recalled. Those that hadn't had sought means to return to their units anyway.

"I don't get it." John grunted as he fell in behind her, following her lead. "We had pretty decent scores back in FTU. Why didn't we get posted to a fleet squadron like some of the other guys?"

"I don't know, John" Breanna looked at the signs posted overhead, looking for the way to the JAF base on the colony. "You're the 'smart' one. Why don't you tell me?"

"The way I'd figure it, I'd say Lieutenant Sawyer hates us."

"Nah . . ." She shook her head with some effort. "He doesn't hate _us_. He just hates _you_. "

"Right . . . I knew that." John feigned a look of understanding which gave way to a smug grin. "And what about you? How did _you_ end up on this detail with me then?"

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant Sawyer assumes, mistakenly and, of course, that you and I are the best of friends. So since he hates you, he hates me too."

"So this is _my_ fault?" 

"Well, it certainly isn't mine, so who else?" Breanna replied as nonchalantly as the weight on her shoulder would allow. "You're a bit slow in figuring things out for yourself, John."

"Gee, thanks a lot, Bre. Sometimes, you're all heart, you know that?" John grumbled. Breanna didn't answer to that. They had reached the Customs counter and she was already busy flashing her identity card. 

She passed through the metal detectors while her bag was run through the scanner. Satisfied that she was a genuine JAF exo pilot as far as they could tell, the Customs officials returned her ID card. John followed his buddy through and as expected, there were no problems encountered.

"So where to know, oh great mastermind?" John Cheah asked sardonically.

But Breanna had stopped in the middle of the starport's arrival hall and she wasn't moving, despite the duffel bag strap that threatened to cave in her collarbone. 

"Hey, Bre . . . you ok?"

"Look . . ." Breanna pointed and John looked.

Near the double doors that lead out from the starport to the colony proper was a hastily erected booth. Flanking it were twin flags with the emblem of the Jovian Armed Forces. Strung out above the counter, across its length was a hurriedly-designed banner. It read: Recruiting Station. 

The booth was manned by a balding man who wore the insignia of a Master Sergeant, assisting him was a trio of Corporals who were hard-pressed to attend to the small throng of people who were crowding them. And the war was hardly a day old. 

Most of them were boys and girls. Few looked any older than thirty. Similar scenes had played out three years ago in the wake of the Odyssey and the climatic Battle of Elysee. Back then, it had been she who had been amongst the crowd of eager youngster, waiting for the chance to sign up with the JAF and join the fight to stave off CEGA aggression. She had even lied about her age in an effort to get enlisted though she had been found out and had been forced to wait a year before being accepted. _How many would be lying about their age today_, Breanna wondered as stared at the booth now. 

This time CEGA aggression was apparent for all to see. The Confederation was finally at war. Breanna had always considered it to be inevitable. It was only a matter of time before tensions between the two nations exploded into a full-scale conflict. The Battle of Elysee had shown that war clouds were on the horizon. And when that storm finally broke, the Confederation would need every enthusiastic fighting man and woman it could get it hands on. That was the reason why Privates Breanna Chan and John Cheah wore the uniform of the JAF.

"Kids. Most of them." John commented.

"We used to be like them." Breanna observed quietly, almost gravely. "In many ways, we're still like them."

"Well, we're different where it counts." John replied, pointing thumb to his chest, pressing against the exo pilot qualification insignia on his creased uniform. 

"Just our luck to graduate right into a middle of a war."

"Hey, it's what we've been trained to do." John pointed out. "I've been dying for a chance like this."

"Well, take care of yourself, you dumb cow." Breanna turned to him and said. "You may not be the brightest friend I ever had, but I'd hate to see you dying for anything."

"Why, I am touched by your concern." 

"Just make sure that if you really have to die, you don't take me with you," she replied, the walls coming up again around her concern for her friend. "It'd take about a year and half for them to train as pilots. Maybe the war will be over and they won't have to die."

"Don't kid yourself, Bre." John shook his head gravely. "We're in this one for the long haul. And if you asked me honestly, I'd tell you a lot of those kids are going to die before this thing is through."

Breanna stared at the wide-eyed youths, most gaping in awe at the service ribbons and decorations on the Master Sergeant's uniform tunic when they should have been reading the enlistment papers that they were signing. Breanna tried to tell herself, like she always did, that John was wrong again. But this time, she knew he was right. Many of those young faces weren't going to be around, one, two maybe three years from now.

"Come on, John." She shifted her shoulder and adjusted the load. "Let's get going."

**1048 HRS – ****31 AUGUST, 2213******

Captain Andy Ho had woken to a nightmare. Search and rescue operations on and around Mars had been going on around the clock and despite his fatigue at having guiding his damaged vessel from the jaws of death, he had tried to remain awake through it all.

_Falchion_ was badly shot up, but like her captain, her crew had thrown themselves into the task of carrying out rescue operations relentlessly. He wasn't sure when he had finally succumbed to exhaustion. But he stared at the bridge chronometer now and noted the time. He had been out for at least three hours.

Only two-thirds of the bridge crew was present now since the ship had gone back down to Yellow Alert following the declaration of the general ceasefire that was still in effect. It seemed almost surreal to him. Nearly twenty-four hours ago, he had been sitting in the same chair as he did now, watching one of the greatest ground battles unfolding on the planet below him while he sat helpless in space while on a peacekeeping mission. Now, he was part of a force that was reeling from the first cataclysmic battle of an international war. An _interplanetary _war. The first of its kind in the Solar System. 

"Captain . . ." his communications operator was speaking now, noting that he was awake. "We've just received a message. The fleet is being ordered to return to Olympus."

"I see." Ho exhaled noisily. "What are our Earth friends doing?"

"They've already begun their withdrawal. Most of them are headed for Earth though a few look like they headed for L5 and the Orbitals." The sensor operator reported crisply despite the edge of fatigue in those words. 

"Very well. Navigator, shape a course for Olympus." Captain Andy Ho sighed once more. "Looks like we're going home, people."


	6. Episode 5: Repercussions

**The Storm's Path #2**

**Episode 5: Repercussions**

_Errors and defeats are more obviously illustrative of principles than successes are _. . ._ Defeat cries aloud for explanation_;_ whereas success_,_ like charity covers a multitude of sins_.

-Rear Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan-

**1145 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

They had been two hours into their Ready 5 duty when the alarms had gone off. The deck crews, those who had not been involved in routine maintenance on the six _Lancers_ that sat on standby, came scrambling out of their rest areas and into the flight bay proper.

It was kind of interesting seeing men and women, clad in clumsy-looking space suits scrambling through the airlock hatch into a microgravity environment, flailing around like a mass of frenzied lemmings as they swam to their assigned posts.

As soon as the pilots were properly strapped in and their opaque cockpits sealed, the launch bay doors had been opened and the fighters launched in quick succession. Despite the fact that no enemy had penetrated Olympian space in the months since the war started with the epic Battle of Kurtzenheim, the crews were still sharp and they had all launched in under five minutes as advertised.

_The same can't be said for us pilots_, Private Adora Cheong thought to herself as she felt the acceleration pressing her back into her seat. Their half-squadron had just completed their latest vector change, their sixth in almost as many minutes. Apparently, Joshua's Station Tactical Control was being very unclear with its instructions. Or at least that was what Lieutenant Ishigawa seemed to want the squadron to believe.

Adora could find a better reason though she wouldn't be the first to voice it out. The months of being on constant standby, or sitting in their cockpits flying patrols or waiting in the launch bay hour upon seemingly endless hour had left them all shattered . . .  and sloppy.

Even now as they flew out from Joshua's Station; their thrusting drives struggling to put more distance between them and the colony cylinder; their formation was far from perfect. Even though her best friend and wingman, Private Candice Yap flew in close to her, they were all struggling to follow Lieutenant Ishigawa's erratic lead.

_We're burning up precious fuel here_ . . . Adora frowned at the fuel gauge on her instrument panel. Like all auxiliary craft, a _Lancer_'s fuel supply was limited, even more so than the average exo-armor. _Lancers_ spent most of their time coasting from point to point. When not in combat, all a pilot did was steer the interceptor onto the right heading, burn some reaction mass to build up some decent speed and let Newton's First Law do the rest.

But from the way their squadron leader kept changing course, Adora was sure they'd run out of reaction mass before they even got into contact with the enemy, or whatever bogeyman higher command had wanted them to intercept.

The thought of that made Adora consult her instruments again. The weapons status displays were still showing in a dull green, indicating that they were not yet armed. Her IM-09 _Lancer _ was flying in the _Pilum_configuration today, having given up the twin racks of MMJ6D wing-launched missiles and the HMJ-6 heavy missiles for a QFS laser and sixteen MMJ-2LR long-range missiles which came pack conveniently in the detachable Advanced Tactical Mission Pod which was fitted to the interceptor's belly. 

Candice on the other hand, had her _Lancer_ configured for bomber operations instead. The snap-on ATMP housing four MMJ4 smart missiles and twenty RJ-56 unguided rockets. It was a load that would leave her extremely vulnerable to attack by exos and other interceptors but that sort of firepower was lethal against capital ships.

Adora stared at the red plastic protective cover that remained in the 'safe' position, hiding the tiny metal switch that would allow her to arm all her onboard weaponry with a single flick. She wondered off-handedly if she would get to use any ordnance today. While she did not relish the thought of having to kill anyone, combat would have certainly been a welcome change. At least it seemed like a better alternative than to be on constant standby and waiting for something to happen while the rest of the nation was purportedly at war.

"Alright, people, we should be getting sensor contact in another minute or so." Lieutenant Ishigawa said, still sounding flustered after their latest change in course. "Red Flight, on me. Sergeant Grimes, you have Blue Flight."

Sergeant Grimes, Adora and Candice's flight leader grunted a terse, 'Roger' before he broke away from the rest of the squadron. The two women were quick to follow the sergeant's lead. Again, Adora winced as the indicator of her fuel gauge dipped visibly again when she applied thrust to follow Grimes.

The seconds began to drag by and Adora stared at the cockpit walls, squinting in hopes of spotting something. Unlike other interceptors, the _Lancer_ had an opaque cockpit which boasted a wraparound holographic display similar to that of exo armors, offering pilots a pretty good view of their surroundings. Of course, some pilots insisted that it was better to use the naked eye, but given the vast distances in space, it seemed rather meaningless to Adora to try spotting anything smaller than a warship.

There was a distinct beep in her headset and she glanced at the pop-up window which showed the sensor returns. The whisker antennae of her active sensors positioned along her fuselage were beginning to pick up some solid returns now. There was a moment of hesitation as the targeting computer ran the sensor returns through the onboard computer database before coming up with a possible match.

She frowned at the result and tapped the multi-function display in front of her, wondering if it was defective. The target schematic refused to change and Adora's frowned deepened. _A _Thunderbolt _cruiser_ . . .?

"Lieutenant . . ." She began but Ishigawa cut her off.

"Radio silence. Accelerate to combat speed." The squadron leader snapped. "Let's make it a quick pass. Recon only."

There was another beep and the red icon resolved and turned blue. The other icons on the sensor display were changing now, the red symbolizing 'unidentified, assumed hostile' now being replaced by blue which denoted friendly contacts. The incoming ships were all squawking friendly IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) transponder codes.

_What's going on here_ . . . Adora frowned again. More ships were appearing on her sensor display. More red blips turning blue. Friendly or otherwise, it suddenly it seemed ludicrous that a mere half-dozen _Lancers _were being sent to meet such a potent force. More ships were being identified now. Even as the acceleration from her fighter's fusion drives pressed her against her seat, Adora gasped at the array of warships that they were streaking towards. _One _Godsfire_, two _Valiants_, five _Alexanders_, nine _Thunderbolts . . .  and the list went on.

She glanced at the speed indicator and then at the data on her targeting computer. The rate of closure was frightening, reminding her of the thankfully rare 'lightning strike' practice flights that she had flown back in training. She gripped the control column with both hands, feeling them go slick with sweat within her sealed gauntlets while her breath sounded incredibly loud in her ears. Several specks seemed to flash into existence ahead of her. They weren't twinkling so they couldn't be stars, which meant . . .

"_Whoa_!"  Candice yelped as several dots flashed into existence ahead of the specks that Adora was focusing on. These new arrivals swelled in a heartbeat, then scream right overhead, seeming to miss them by mere inches. "_Lancers_ . . .?"

Adora craned her neck to glimpse over her shoulder at rapidly shrinking shapes. It sure looked like a flight of _Lancers_ that had just buzzed them. How was it that they failed to pick them up on their sensors?

But before Adora could pursue that train of thought any further, Lieutenant Ishigawa's high-pitched and seemingly flustered voice cut into their headsets and thoughts. "Eyes front, people!"

Adora forced herself to look ahead, just in time to see the immense prow of a _Godsfire_ supercarrier literally ballooning into her face while the slender shapes of _Thunderbolt _cruisers slashed past. She barely had the time to shriek in surprise as she found herself flying through the dense formation of a fleet before she was through.

Heart pounding crazily in her chest and her hair surprisingly slick with sweat, Adora managed to gasp a strained, "They're ours!"

"That's right, Private." Ishigawa said breathlessly. "I thought we could do with the 'lightning strike' practice. I think we can call this a successful run, people."

_Who is he kidding_? Adora shook her head. They had not even seen the flight of _Lancers_ that had zipped over their heads just moments before they reached the fleet which they were now circling back towards. Had it been a real combat situation, it was very likely that most of them would have been dead by now, without even knowing what hit them.

"Where did all these ships come from, sir?" That was Candice who asked.

"It's the Mars Peacekeeping Fleet." Ishigawa replied flatly as he led his squadron to catch up with the relatively ponderous warships. "Or at least what's left of it." The lieutenant added sourly.

"Gosh, I've never seen so many ships!" Candice gasped. "Hey, Dora. Check it out! Some of them even have decorations put up!"

Adora noticed this as they flew alongside the fleet now, affording them a better view of the ships that made up the fleet. Several of them had holographic decorations adorning their hulls while most were ablaze with their navigation and running lights.

And then she saw it. The first signs of damage. One of the _Javelin_-class missile destroyers was missing a quarter of its bow, while a nearby _Alexander_-class destroyer had its entire centrifuge section destroyed. Other ships were showing varying levels of battle damage, much of it hastily patched up in order to maintain the ships' spaceworthiness.

"Isn't that the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" Candice was still jubilant, apparently not noticing the battle scars on the ships.

"I wouldn't be cheering so much if I were you, Candice." Adora said grimly as she flew past the _Vigilant_, observing her gutted flight bays. She paused as she took a moment to absorb the severity of the damage. There was no way that those bays had been empty when they were hit and it was obvious that they had been catastrophically breached by enemy fire. "There are coffins on many of those ships."

**1434 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

President Itangre watched the warships passing silently in review before her eyes, like a silently mournful procession of whales. Despite the somewhat tragic situation that several of those ships found themselves in, Intangre was still smiling.

_We may not have won this round_, she told herself as she caught sight of the first battle-damaged ship in the formation in front of her. _But_ _we didn't lose either_. Now, a large portion of the JAF had been blooded in combat, against the Solar System's only other superpower to boot. And against superior numbers and an enemy that was closer to home than her fleet was, the Jovians had given a good account of themselves. The enemy's weight in numbers were the prime cause of the Jovian force taking relatively heavy casualties as opposed to the Battle of Elysée. ****

But then, compared to what the media had been calling the Battle of Kurtzenheim for the past few months, even an attack on the Jovian capital (Battle of Elysée) paled into insignificance. The one great battle over Mars had been the grandest space battle ever witnessed by humanity.

And the Jovians had been part of it. Itangre felt her chest swelling with pride at that thought. Her brothers and sisters, her fellow countrymen, her brethren had been part of this great battle which was only the precursor to greater things to come.

With the return of the Peacekeeping Force, the Jovian president knew that they were entering a new phase. She had been reluctant to make any may troop commitments outside of Confederation space following the battle around Mars. A significant portion of the Confederation's naval strength was included in the peacekeeping force and she was unwilling to undertake any major military operations without an ample reserve of ships. With the vessels of the Peacekeeping Force now safely back in her fold, she could pursue a more aggressive policy past the Belt and into the Inner Solar System. For far too long, she had been enduring the torrent of questions and criticism from the media people and the Agora, calling for more decisive action against the imperialists from Earth.

She thought about the events of the past few months now. In the confused aftermath of the Battle of Kurtzenheim, she had survived an assassination attempt, a betrayal by a senior JIS staff and a conspiracy that had succeeded in pushing the Confederation and the CEGA to war with one another.

The group behind the whole conspiracy had been known as the Principii, consisting mainly of JAF personnel though several prominent civilians and supposedly upright Confederation citizens had been part of the plot. Led by the late Karl Lotjoenen, a former JAF officer and a close associate of General Avram Thorsen.

Thorsen had been a close associate (some went as far to call him 'lover') of Itangre before the Battle of Elysée, after which she had to remove him from command of Gamma Division for allowing the CEGA fleet to get so close to the capital She and Thorsen had been rumored to be lovers but the events following the Battle of Elysée had forced her to distance herself from him. Like now, she could ill-afford any political baggage then.

Apparently, Lotjonen and his 'Principii' were all ultra-nationalists who believed that the threat from Earth was to great to ignore and that the only way to eliminate this threat was to bring both superpowers to war where it was believed that the Jovians, with their superior technology would defeat the Earthers easily. In summary, Lotjonen was simply thinking the way Itangre was, though he was willing to take far more drastic action in bringing about a war than the President ever was.

Now, the Jovian Confederation and the CEGA were at war with each other. Itangre would have thanked Lotjoenen for giving her the perfect excuse to realize her dreams were it not for the fact that he was already dead and viewed by the general public as a traitor. Itangre though about those dreams again. Dreams that included the elimination of Earth as a threat to the Confederation's expansion and the subsequent absorption of humanity's homeworld into the Confederation.

Lotjoenen and his Pricipii had been wrong about one thing though. The CEGA had proven to be a tougher nut to crack than expected and the JAF had encountered several nasty CEGA surprises during the Battle of Kurtzenheim.

The threat reassessments that her senior staff from the JAF and JIS had painted a picture that was significantly bleaker than she had anticipated. The Confederation could expect to win a war against the CEGA in the long run, but it was certainly going to cost the Jovians dear. Itangre pushed that thought out of her mind. Her people had returned and that was what was really important for now.

The parade of ships was still moving past her, aglitter with lights and fireworks. Many of these ships would be needing repairs, but their crews were veterans now. And she knew that fresh ships were being held back in the Confederation, many with incomplete crews, most waiting for the next batch of trainees to complete their training. Trainees who had signed up in the patriotic fervor that followed Kurtzenheim. Many of these ships would do well to have the experience of Kurtzenheim veterans.

She had inspected some of these new ships herself, including vessels that would certainly have turned the tide had they been in orbit around Mars. Joining the fleet in the time that the Peacekeeping Force had been away were the first of the stupendous _Ypres_-class battleships and the marvelous _Majestic_-class supercarriers had come online.

While the _Ypres_ could easily blow away almost any opponent with its first salvo, the _Majestics_ could carry up to forty-eight exo armors or interceptors, which was four to eight times what current carriers in the fleet were capable of.

_The road ahead will be hard_, Itangre told herself as she stared at the ships before her. _But we've got the tools and the people to win this war. _

She could see one of the brand new _Majestics_cruising up to meet the returning fleet now, her retinue of nearly fifty exo-armors hovering protectively around their mothership. Alexandra Itangre smiled at that sight.

_And we shall win_.

**1502 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

"There they are!" John's voice crowed in Breanna's headset. Even from such a great distance, they could see the tiny flecks of white that were the ships of the returning Peacekeeping Fleet. Larger flecks, the colony cylinders of Olympus, framed the fleet, set against the background of Ganymede which itself was set against the backdrop of Father Jupiter, whose angry Red Spot continue to stare at them like some gigantic bloodshot eye.

Even with the use of magnification aids, one could observe the Jovian fleet rather clearly. The incessant bursts of fireworks were a definite reference point for the casual observer. Breanna called up her optical magnifier and a pop-up window appeared on her HUD, allowing her to view the returning ships in greater detail. She gasped at the sight of so many of them.

"I've never seen so many ships before." John was gasping as well. "Have you?"

Breanna rotated her _Pathfinder_ _Alpha_'s head to face John's exo armor. It was a very human gesture that wasn't entirely necessary with the bevy of sensors mounted aboard a _Pathfinder_. "Nope." Breanna replied simply, human eyes still transfixed on the fleet. They were under orders to remain at their patrol station around Yin-Wang. Apparently their squadron was going to play no part in the homecoming festivities. That had left John somewhat crestfallen since he had really wanted to see those ships up close.

"Bre, I was thinking about this last night." John began as they continued their leisurely patrol route around the forty-kilometer-long colony they had been assigned to defend.

"You? _Think_?" Breanna scoffed over the radio. "Now _that_ alone is something."

"Come on now, Bre." John replied petulantly. "Seriously . . ."

"Ok, ok. I'll humor you for a moment, my boy." Breanna feigned reluctance. "Beats flying around in silence."

"That's just it, Bre. That's all we do." John said excitedly, as if his wingman had stumbled of the greatest truth in the universe. "We just fly around this damn colony all day! And that's when we're not sitting around waiting for our 'joyrides' in space."

"Gee . . ." Breanna cooed sarcastically. "Took you rather long to realize that, Johnny-boy."

"I'm being serious, Bre!" John retorted peevishly. "This is _not_ what I enlisted in the JAF to do."

"Well, I've got news for you then, boy. I didn't sign up to play security guard either. But I _did_ sign up to fly exos." The female exo pilot answered. "And besides, didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"We are here to safeguard our citizens and protect industries vital to the war effort. Our vigilance each day ensures the Confederation's survival for another day." Breanna said, mimicking their squadron commander. That elicited a chuckle from John.

"Well, I guess that's one way to look at it." John was stifling his laughter now. "But really, Bre. I think I've had it. I want out."

"What?" Try as she might, Breanna couldn't hide the surprise in her tone. "The JAF?"

"No, no, no." The other exo pilot was shaking his head vigorously. "Of course not. I'm not crazy. Besides, I _love _this job."

"Then just what do you mean?"

Breanna was watching her wingman's exo now and she saw the _Pathfinder Alpha_'s head rotating to face the Peacekeeping Fleet that glittered in the distance. Despite it being a machine, Breanna was almost sure the _Pathfinder_ looked wistful, mirroring the emotions of the human operator inside.

"This sucks. I want to be in a real combat unit." John exhaled. "Or at least in a fleet unit. Flying off a carrier instead of some lousy colony cylinder."

"Oh, that's just great . . ." Breanna groaned. "What are you going to do? Put in for a transfer?"

"Yeah, why not?" John asked, unable to understand why Breanna wasn't agreeing with him. "There's nothing wrong with that now, is there?"

"We've been aboard Yin-Wang for exactly four months. And the squadron is barely up to full strength." Breanna pointed out in a tone that one normally reserved for explaining things to a child. "You think the CO is just going to let us waltz out of here and join a fleet unit? John, I'm pretty sure _he's _ just as eager for a fleet assignment as we are. What makes you think he's going to go along with a transfer?"

"Because he knows exactly how we feel," was John's answer. "I mean, we've proven that we're pretty good pilots and our talents are simply going to waste. If he's dreaming of a fleet assignment himself, then all the better. He'll understand our plight better."

Breanna remained silent for a moment, unsure as to whether John was being crazy or just incredibly dumb. In the end, she opted for the former. "You're nuts, John. The CO would never go along with a transfer."

"No harm trying, Bre. Come on . . ." John pleaded. "With your looks and my brains, I'm sure we can convince the CO to let us go."

"Oh, alright . . ." Breanna finally relented. "We'll give it a try . . . _after_ I clobber you for what you just said."

"Thanks." Then John added somewhat slyly. "And if the Skipper isn't willing to empathize with our plight, we'll just have to give him a reason to be rid of us . . ."

**1646 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

There had been crowds . . . _cheering_ them. Warrant Officer (O) Adelene Chan couldn't quite understand it. She had expected the homecoming to be met with relief, and granted, _some _celebration.

Already she had thought it ludicrous that the crew of her ship had put up makeshift decorations, holdovers from the Inception Day around Mars where the war had first started. Some of the lights ringing the flight bays had been fused into place when CEGA exo armors came and shot up the _Vigilant._

It had been a strange sight, Adelene recalled now. Four months ago, the ships of the Jovian Peacekeeping Force had looked similar, with decorations adorning their hulls and running lights sparkling against the inky backdrop of space.

But back then there had been Martian and Earther exos and fighters slashing through the space between the ships. Right now, the once-pristine lines of many ships had been marred by battle damage. Other than that the two scenes were quite similar.

As the regimental formations of the returning fleet passed the first outposts of Jovian civilization in Olympus, they had been greeted by waves interceptors and exo armors. The returning fleet had scrambled their own craft and put them on parade as they finally passed Joshua's Station in review.

Adelene had missed out on that since her fighter had been left in a decaying orbit around Mars after it had run out of fuel. She had been rescued by a squad of Marines in their _Falconer_ suits. But her damaged had fighter had to be left behind since _Vigilant_'s bay space, limited by fresh battle damage had only left room for the more expensive exos.

Despite the seemingly needless preparations aboard the _Vigilant_ and the pep talks by the captain regarding their conduct upon their return to the Confederation, nothing had prepared Adelene for the fete that had met them on their arrival.

Thousands of fireworks had been fired to herald their return to Jovian space and hundreds of ships, civilian and military, had added to the millions on the colony cylinders who cheered their return.

As one of the prized _Valiant_-class vessels in the fleet, they had been granted priority to dock at Khannan Base where they had disembarked to the grandest carnival she had ever seen. Khannan City was home to some 4.1 million people, both JAF and otherwise and it had seemed as if they had all gathered to welcome them home.

The noise in the pressurized work bay had been deafening and she had been shocked to see the screaming throngs waving wildly in her direction as she stepped off her ship, duffel bag balanced precariously on her shoulder. There were banners everywhere and confetti snowed down on her ceaselessly as she tried to make her way through the crowd of civilians who were barely held in check by JAF security personnel.

_It_'_s almost like being idolized_ . . . Adelene thought as she squeezed her way through the people gathered in the work bay. Some were asking her for a speech, while other wanted her autograph. Having just returned from one of her longer and by far the most fatiguing of deployments, Adelene was in no shape to fend off the adoring throng of packed humanity reaching out just to touch her and the other disembarking crew of the _Vigilant_.

She supposed that on a normal day, she'd be basking in the newfound fame and popularity. But today was no normal day. Today was the day she could finally step off the ship she had been deployed aboard for the better part of her year and finally let her guard down. It was a feeling that she didn't need to share with ten thousand screaming well-wishers.

The weight on her shoulder began to hurt and the crowd around her was suffocating. Suddenly she found that there was no way through. She had become separated from the rest of her squadronmates and a sea of faces were swirling around her. People were shouting, almost chanting, but despite the sheer volume of sound bombarding her, she could not make out a single word that was being said.

For a brief terrifying moment, Adelene thought she was going to be pulped in that crush of human flesh. She felt the air around her going stale. There was a distinct ringing in her ears, sounding above the barrage of noise.  She wondered why the word kept swimming around her and staggered as the deck below tilted left, then to the right.

One of the JAF security personnel closest to her shot her a concerned look and got his colleague to hold the crowd back while he reached out to Adelene. She felt his hand grip her arm and saw his mouth move but heard nothing.

Then the world revolved one final time before Warrant Officer (O) Adelene Chan sank beneath the mob, her duffel bag hitting the deck a moment before her unconscious form.

**1710 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

The sound of the engines had died down minutes ago and most of the ship's systems had been shut down as she stood down upon successful docking with Khannan Base. The silence aboard the JSS _Facilitator_ was discomforting considering how the familiar throb of reactors and machinery had constantly reverberated along her entire frame for nearly nine months.

Captain Alvin Ng sat quietly and alone in his quarters, the silence making the cabin feel very much like a tomb. In fact such a description would have been apt for he was a commander without a squadron; the sole survivor of the Deathwings; confined to quarters pending investigation for his actions during what was now known as The Battle of Kurtzenheim.

In the four months following that cataclysmic battle, he had spent half of that time in Sick Bay, recovering from the injuries he had sustained in the last-second ejection from his doomed exo-armor.  Post-battle analysis had shown that the destruction of his exo had somehow triggered his ejection pod though the force of the blast had ripped it open as well. It was fortunate that his flight suit had not been shredded in the unconventional egress from his war machine and that suit had kept him alive long enough to be found.

Nevertheless, he had spent two months in the _Facilitator_'s Sick Bay, recovering from back and leg injuries that had been inflicted on him as he was hurled into space. Upon recovery, he had spent nearly a month painstakingly writing his report and analysis of the Battle. Infinitely more painful had been the process of writing the letters of condolences to the families of each one of the eleven pilots in his squadron that had been killed in action.

He had spent many of those seemingly endless days in his quarters, away from the crew. He had felt like an outsider after his release from Sick Bay, realizing that many of the men and women he was once familiar with had begun to avert his eyes in the passageways aboard the _Facilitator_. As the only exo pilot left on the carrier, it had been a depressingly solitary existence that he led aboard.

And so when the order came through about three weeks ago, confining him to quarters pending an investigation for his actions which ended off in the decimation of the Deathwings in the space above Mars, not much had actually changed apart from the fact that his exile from the rest of the carrier's crew was now official.

There was a chime at the door and he stared at the hatch in mild surprise. _Was it time already_? He glanced at his kit bag resting next to the doorway. His lockers were all open now, revealing their stripped-bare interiors.  "Enter," he said quietly.

The hatch cracked open to reveal one of the ship's security personnel, MP armband worn prominently around his right sleeve. Corporal Jerel Tan was a good man whom Alvin was rather familiar with in his time aboard the _Facilitator_._ I_t was clear that Jerel didn't relish what he was doing now. He was certainly more at ease breaking up minor arguments in the mess hall than placing a squadron commander under arrest. "Sir, it's time."

Alvin nodded as he rose from his bunk bed, glancing at his lockers one more time to make sure he had not forgotten anything.

"Sir, you know how it is . . . " The corporal couldn't complete his sentence as he watched the captain nervously and warily at the same time.

Again, Alvin nodded wordlessly and this time he turned around to present his wrists to the security specialist. He saw the man hesitate slightly before he reached into the pouch on his utility belt to retrieve a set of handcuffs.

 "I'm really sorry, sir." The junior man said as he took a cautious, hesitant step forward. It was apparent that the young man was wishing he was somewhere very far away from the _Facilitator_ at the moment.

Alvin did the other man a favor by keeping his head forward and his eyes locked on an imaginary point on the ceiling.

"So am I, Jerel." Alvin said softly, looking away. "So am I."

And the handcuffs clicked as they snapped shut around his wrists.

**1756 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

"Docking complete, Captain." The helmsman said, fatigued-lined face looking over at Captain Andy Ho, youthful eyes seeking approval. But there was something more besides youth in those eyes. The fire had died somewhat, and there were fresh lines at the edges of those bloodshot eyes. It was the touch of hardness that combat experience lends to a human mind, shattering whatever innocence that had once existed there.

"Good work." Ho nodded wearily, then turned to his Executive Officer. "XO, power down the ship and set Port Watch."

"Aye, sir." The XO said crisply despite the fatigue and began to relay the message to the rest of the crew, personally overseeing the final operations as the ship prepared to shut down completely.

Captain Andy Ho collapsed into his plush command chair and let out a tired sigh. Above and around him, the visual displays on the dome shaped bridge interior were blanking out one by one. Already, the sound of the ship's fusion drives were dying down as Engineering received the orders to shut down. He let his eyes close and sighed once more, feeling something more than energy draining from his body.

He had no idea how long he had been out. But he woke to a gentle tugging against his sleeve. When he opened his eyes, he noted that the dome overhead had gone completely dark and the bridge was now lit by conventional light tubes in the 'floor' and the work consoles laid out before each member of the bridge crew.

He traced the hand on his sleeve and realized it was the XO. "Yeah . . . I'm up." The captain blinked and rubbed his gritty eyes. "What's up?"

"Sir, the ship is at Port Watch."

"Very well, have the crew disembark by watches." Andy nodded groggily, then noticed the XO was still watching him. "Is there something else?"

"There's a Captain Joe Hegashi requesting permission to come aboard."  Andy frowned and squinted at his XO who then queried, "You don't know him?"

"No. Should I?"

"Well, he's requesting to meet with you." The XO explained. "He says it's urgent."

"Very well, have someone bring him up to the bridge then." Ho said and the XO saw to it immediately.  

Despite the fact that many of the ship's systems had been shut down, there was still the babble of voices in the bridge as the various bridge officers saw to their respective departments. Once the ship was fully secured, the crew would begin to disembark in waves, leaving a skeleton crew aboard to brief the incoming repair and maintenance crews before taking their leave as well.

Maybe Hegashi was the officer detailed to head up the repair teams that would see to the damage that _Facilitator_ had suffered at the hands of the CEGA, Andy mused. It was not unknown for chief yard officers to converse directly with the commanding officer of their charges before setting about their repair work. _Facilitator_ had taken several nasty hits and Andy was sure she was going to be laid up for months. He wondered briefly if he was going to be asked to undocked so that ships with lesser damage could be repaired and sent to rejoin the fray more quickly.

There wasn't much more time to consider that possibility as the armored doors to the bridge slid open to reveal a portly, bullet-head man who wore what was left of his hair in a black ring around his head. The microgravity on the bridge allowed the man to move his bulk more easily than he should have been able to.

"Captain Hegashi?" Andy turned fully to face the visitor. Despite the other man's physical appearance, the service ribbons on the uniform tunic did show that Hegashi was not a yard officer. Or at least the majority of his career hadn't been spent languishing on space stations.

"Captain Ho." The visitor brought his hand up in a sharp salute. "Captain Joe Hegashi, Gamma Division HQ."

It took Andy a moment to realize what was going on before he returned the salute. Regardless of rank, the commander of a ship was always the senior person on board until formalities were exchanged and protocols redrawn.

"This is a fine ship you have here." Hegashi said approvingly.

Andy resisted the urge to frown, unsure as to whether Hegashi was being serious or merely being polite. Finally he said, "Well, that she certainly is. She's a little shot up, but she brought us home." Andy saw the other captain nod in agreement. "What brings you aboard the _Facilitator_, Captain Hegashi?"

"Orders." Hegashi slipped his hand inside his uniform tunic and retrieved a thin message sheet bearing the official stationary of Gamma Division Headquarters. "Yours and mine."

"I see." Andy said noncommittally as he accepted the message sheet. He glanced to the bottom and noted that it had been signed by General Konrad Koudriopoulos, GamDivCom himself. He eyes widened slightly at that and then widened even more as he read the orders.

"You getting a promotion, sir?" Andy's XO asked hopefully, coming to stand by his skipper's side. "Or a commendation, perhaps?"

"No." Andy said simply as he folded the plastic sheet. "I've been relieved of command."

"What?" The XO paled and grew wide-eyed. "But _why_ . . . where . . .?"

"Captain Hegashi will be your commanding officer now." Andy spoke through a clenched jaw. He exchanged glances with the other captain and saw that there was no trace of smugness or satisfaction in the man's eyes.

"Sir, what about you?" The XO was alternating glances between the two men, gaping like a fish out of water.

"I'm to report to GamDiv HQ for reassignment." Andy said evenly to his XO, then looked over to Hegashi. "Captain Hegashi, I stand relieved."

"I relieve you, Captain." Hegashi replied formally.

Andy nodded curtly and then saluted his replacement. "May I have your permission to clear my personal effects from your quarters?"

Hegashi snapped off a return salute. "Very well. You may take whomever you require to assist you, captain."

"Thank you. You are most kind." Andy replied flatly before stepping past Hegashi to head for the double doors that led out of the bridge.

"Oh, and Captain Ho . . ." The outgoing CO of the _Facilitator _stopped short of the airlock and turned around. "For what it's worth, Captain Ho, I wish you the best of luck."

Andy paused for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. Then the lanky man gave a curt nod and tight grin. "And for what it's worth, Captain Hegashi, I wish you the same too."

And then Captain Andy Ho stepped out the airlock and off the bridge of the _Facilitator_.

**2147 HOURS – ****30 DECEMBER, 2213******

"Well, now that we've powered down, they should be coming to get you soon." Joshua Loke said to the man who stood behind the bars.

"I suppose I should thank you." _Hauptmann_Peter Tan smiled from within the holding cell in the JSS _Flame_'s brig. "I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for you."

"I'm sorry they put you in this cell." Joshua replied, making sure he was out of earshot from the watchful guard at his duty station. "It's just not right for an officer. For anyone who's done what you've done."

"It's certainly more comfortable than the facilities my former comrades would allocate to you were our situations reversed." Peter remarked wryly.

Before Joshua could muster a reply to that, the hatch to the brig opened to reveal the _Flame_'s security chief. With him was a woman in civilian clothing. Neither her delicate, china-white features nor the depthless stare in her large round eyes revealed any of her emotions. In fact, Joshua found himself shifting uncomfortably at the way her gaze shifted from him and then to Peter.

"Is this the detainee?" The woman turned to asked the security chief in an icy tone which made it seemed as if she regarded to the _BundesArmee_defector as nothing more than a piece of meat.

"Yes, ma'am. That's him." The security chief answered blandly.

"Very well." The woman said airily. "Secure him and have him brought to my shuttle."

"As you wish." The security chief motioned to the guard who fetched a set of heavy-duty restraints from his station, along with a stun baton.

And then the woman cast her gaze on the two men who stood, separated by the bars. She almost seemed to be satisfied with the whole situation but Joshua thought it was probably the light paying tricks on that emotionless face.

"I guess this is it." Joshua said to Peter as the security personnel came for him.

"Thanks again, Joshua. Really."

"You're welcome." The Jovian exo-pilot said dubiously, feeling the civilian's eyes on him. "They won't keep you for long, I'm sure."

"I'll write you when I get out. I promise." Peter grinned weakly.

"Saying your goodbyes already?" That smooth, frosty voice made Joshua cringe and he turned to see the civilian woman standing next to him. The guards were unlocking the cell now.

"Uh . . ."

"Corporal Joshua Loke?" She asked while the Martian _Hauptmann_ was being cuffed by the two security men.

"Yes. Um, that's me, ma'am." The exo-pilot stammered.

"Ma'am, your prisoner." The security chief said, bringing the restrained Peter next to her. He showed no signs of resistance and the security chief handed the key for the cuffs to the woman.

"Take him to my shuttle." She told the security chief then turned to fix Joshua with a soul-freezing stare. "And this one too."

"_What_?" Joshua felt his jaw fall open despite his best efforts to fight the urge. "Whatever for? And just who do you think you are anyway?"

"Me?" The woman laughed. It was a sound that made Joshua want to shrink away into the nearest bulkhead. "I'm Special Agent Lois Goh, Jovian Intelligence Service. Which division I belong to is none of your concern. And I'll be asking the questions from here on. Especially the ones pertaining to fraternizing with an enemy in a time of war."

Joshua was still gasping wordlessly when he felt his wrists being pulled back roughly. His first instinct was to resist, wriggling against that vice-like grip.

"Don't even think about it," the security chief hissed into his ear a moment before the cuffs clamped around his wrists.  Joshua made one last effort at resisting and was rewarded by a sudden stab or body-encompassing pain followed by numbness as a charged stun baton struck him in the small of his back, plunging him into a world of darkness.


	7. Episode 6: Recriminations and Rewards

**The Storm's Path #3**

**Episode 6: Recriminations And Rewards**

_Victory needs no explanation, defeat allows none. _

-Anonymous-

**1340 HOURS – 14 FEBRUARY, 2214**

Captain Alvin Ng shifted uncomfortably, his bottom aching as he sat at the edge of the plush, cushioned seat. Somehow, it had not felt right or befitting of his image to be seen lounging back while he was in the witness stand. He had already taken the oath 'to tell the truth and nothing but the truth' and cross examination had taken place in the earnest.

The prosecution had come on strong despite the fact that he had not thought there was much of a case against him. Many of the witnesses that Captain Jurgen, the JAF's prosecutor, had fielded were exo pilots or ship commanders. Some of them had been people that Alvin had known, some for years. But yet, not one of them had been there during his squadron's last battle against heavy CEGA opposition.

So far, all they had given was their expert opinions of the situation that he had faced. But that was just what they were: opinions. And several of those exo pilots who had been called to testify 'against' him had encountered the same proximity mines mounted on the hulls of CEGA ships that had caused great carnage amongst the JAF's exo squadrons. The difference was that only the Deathwings had been wiped out to a man.

Captain Jurgen seemed undaunted by the apparent lack of a damning testimony as he came forward now with his questions. So far, Lieutenant Kristoff, the man assigned to be Alvin's defense counsel, had done a pretty good job of lessening the damage done by the numerous witnesses that the prosecution had already called up.

Now it was finally Alvin's turn to be put on the stand. Jurgen had been trying to prove that Alvin had been reckless in his attack against the CEGA carrier force that they had found over Mars and that every single one of the Deathwings had perished as a result of his conduct in the battle. Without any real witnesses to corroborate that story, Kristoff had assured Alvin that he had a pretty good chance of coming through.

"Captain Ng, having heard the numerous testimonies of the witnesses before you regarding the fate of the Deathwings, can you say that the deployment proximity mines deployed aboard the enemy ships were the turning point in your action against the CEGA carrier group?"

"Many other squadrons faced the same mines and were repulsed." Alvin replied noncommittally.

"Well, we're not here to talk about other squadrons, Captain Ng. Just yours." The prosecutor remarked scathingly. "Why did _you_ choose to close the range between your exos and your targets instead of standing off and hitting them with missiles and other long range weapons?"

"We did not have sufficient firepower to effect enough damage on the targets for the mission to be a success. Also, we had already eliminated the carrier group's escort force and wanted to save the ordnance for a more difficult target."

"And so you closed into plasma lance range?"

"Standard fleet doctrine called for us to do so when enemy exo activity is negligible." Again, Alvin's reply was curt, designed to reveal as little as possible.

"So in spite of the proximity mines deployed aboard those CEGA's ships, you still reverted to blind adherence to doctrine?" Jurgen asked pointedly. "Where is the flexibility in that?"

Alvin felt his temper rise within him and saw Lieutenant Kristoff's mouth moving in the beginnings of uttering an 'Objection'. But Alvin beat his defense counsel to the punch by answered before the word had left the lieutenant's mouth.

"Captain Jurgen, I'm surprised you're making such an unqualified statement in light of all the testimonies that have gone before. After all, the decision to close to range was made _before_ the discovery of the proximity mines." Alvin tried to say as calmly and flatly as he could in order to disguise his frustration. "Every other pilot and squadron commander you called upon did the exact same thing that I did. And do you know why?"

Jurgen seemed slightly taken aback by the exo squadron commander's response and he shook his head mutely.

"Captain Jurgen, a plasma lance, while extremely short-ranged, has a destructive power equivalent to the warhead of our standard MMJ-4 medium missiles. Throw in the fact that each exo can use two of them at a time and literally drag them down the length of a target and you get a most potent weapon. Have you ever seen plasma lances in action?"

Jurgen began to realize that he was losing control of the questioning and opened his mouth to say something. But Alvin could see the answer on the man's face and cut then prosecutor off.

"I didn't think so." Alvin almost sneered as he glanced at the relatively empty space above the prosecutor's left breast pocket as compared to his own which was bedecked with service ribbons, qualification devices and decorations. "With those lances, we can basically peel open any warship as if we were using a can-opener. Exo anti-ship doctrine, as with any other combat doctrine, is based on experience and extensive testing. It is because of these doctrines that we stand a chance of getting the job done each time we go into combat. I'm not sure if you understand any of that, but as a combat exo pilot, I do. Do you need me to expand on the importance of, what did you call it . . . 'blind adherence' to doctrine?"

The prosecutor, realizing that his line of questioning had backfired, scowled before shaking his head curtly. "That . . . will not be necessary, Captain." Jurgen turned his back on Alvin and for a moment, the pilot thought it was over. Then the prosecutor whirled around once more. "So why were the Deathwings decimated to a man if they had followed doctrine as dictated?"

"Because doctrine will only take you so far," came the still-calm reply. "Much of the rest is still based on luck."

"Luck?" Jurgen scoffed and shook his head with mock severity. "I can't accept that, Captain. And I won't. And I am going to prove it was due to more than bad luck that the Deathwings are no more."

**2217 HOURS – 17 FEBRUARY, 2214**

He had lost track of time very long ago. He had been kept in that dark cramped room for what seemed to have been like days. The only time the lights ever came on was during the first interrogation.

Water had been provided infrequently and food even more so. Corporal Joshua Loke could hardly remember what was the last thing he had eaten. It hadn't helped that he had consumed the unsavory food in complete darkness.

He stretched his body in the darkness, now familiar with the limits of his cell. He wondered if he would ever see that door in front of him fully opened again, instead of the tiny hole which was used to deliver food and drink.

As if as an answer to his prayers, he heard the loud, metallic grind as the door began to shift. Glaringly white florescent light slashed into the cell and Joshua was once again reminded of what the interior looked like before he was blinded. He could hear footfalls as someone entered the room, blocking the light in the doorway.

Just as he looked up in an attempt to identify the newcomer, the overhead lights snapped on, blinding him once more. "Ah, Mr. Loke. I believe the time has come for you to answer my next set of questions," said a familiar voice.

"You . . ." Joshua said even though he couldn't see. "What do you want with me?"

"Why, answers, of course." The newcomer took a step forward, partially blocking the light overhead. With his recovered vision, he could see Special Agent Lois Goh's face once more. And the feline smile on her face was anything but friendly.

"I'll have you know that I'm a Jovian citizen and I have rights . . ."

"Sure, you do." The JIS agent's razor-thin smile remained firmly on her face. "But you will come to realize that as an agent of the JIS, I too have my rights. Which include the right to deprive others of their rights."

**1649 HOURS – 24 FEBRUARY, 2214**

It had been yet another long day in the courtroom and Alvin could feel the fatigue beginning to creep into his mind. The days had grown longer and the case had swung back and forth as Captain Jurgen and Lieutenant Kristoff took turns presenting their cases against and for him.

Having realized that he could not get Alvin convicted for following standard fleet doctrine, Jurgen had amended his approach, attempting to prove to the court that the defendant had a history of behaving rashly in the face of the enemy. Jurgen had accused him of recklessly opting to stay in the fight when he could have withdrawn. But what had hurt most was that the prosecutor had found witnesses to back up his case.

Alvin Ng's meteoric rise to the rank of captain in his ten years of service was made even more remarkable by the fact that he had spent the first four years of that career as an enlisted man, attaining the rank of Sergeant before attending Officer Training School. Such a career had allowed him to overtake many other officers who were technically senior to him and made him more than his fair share of enemies.

While he knew his uncompromising style and standards may not have gone down well with some of his colleagues in the past, he had not expected to have created so many enemies during the course of his career. More than one officer had been willing to testify that he was a reckless maniac in combat. Even a few of his staunchest supporters had been forced to admit that Alvin's fighting style was more aggressive than most other exo squadron commanders.

Things were looking far less rosy now and he could feel the fatigue creeping in. He had been in combat numerous times in his career but nothing had been as exhausting as this court martial. The media had taken a distinct interest in all military trials that were connected to the Battle of Kurtzenheim. Even after so long, the masses still seemed interested in where the blame for that bloody incident could be placed and anyone who looked likely to shoulder part of the blame (no matter how minuscule) was turned into a celebrity of sorts.

Admiral Gordo Sullivan, who had commanded the Jovian Peacekeeping Force over Mars and had died when the _Gilgamesh_ went down, had already been turned into a villain instead of the martyr that he rightfully should have been. Some had even gone so far as to blame him for ordering the first shots to be fired at the CEGA forces.

Alvin suppressed a yawn as he saw Captain Jurgen stepping out from around his desk after making a show of consulting his notes. He cleared his throat and fixed the exo pilot with that superior, arrogant look that Alvin had long grown immune to.

"Captain Ng, over the last two days, we have heard numerous testimonies about your fighting and leadership styles. They all seem to echo the same thing, wouldn't you say?" Jurgen cocked an eyebrow at him and paused. Alvin refused to take the bait and he remained silent. He was getting tired and he knew it. He had to minimize talking lest he make a mistake.

"Captain Ng, would you agree with the assessment of your colleagues?" The prosecutor scowled, unhappy that he had failed to draw out his 'victim'.

"And which . . . colleagues . . . and which 'assessments' would you be referring to?" Alvin managed to reply without to much malice or frustration. "I was under the impression that the testimonies were all differing in some way or the other."

Jurgen stared at him through slit eyes and considered the response for a moment, then said very slowly. "The opinion that you are an aggressive fighter and leader."

"Good exo leaders are aggressive."

"You're not answering the question." Jurgen said flatly. "Besides, that is not a sentiment echoed by all of your contemporaries."

This time, Alvin could no longer resist the urge and he released a pent-up breath of frustration. "Yes, I am an aggressive person."

"Perhaps to the point of being reckless as some of your colleagues have shared."

"And how would you . . . "

"Your honor," Jurgen said, addressing the president of the court martial. "I would like to submit that by the defendant's own admission, he is an aggressive person and that was certainly something that contributed to the demise of the Deathwings . . ."

"Now hold on a second, Jurgen!" Alvin knew he was rapidly losing his temper. He could see Lieutenant Kristoff waving frantically at him but he was past caring. "I was aggressive, yes! But that's exactly why I was allowed to lead an exo squadron! What do you know about combat, you prissy, rear echelon turd!"

There were several stunned gasps in the courtroom as Alvin rose from his chair and glowered at the prosecutor. "I'd dare to bet you've never known what it's like to be shot at or to have to kill anyone!"

"Your honor . . ." Jurgen looked over to the president.

"Captian Ng . . ." The colonel in the president's chair said soothingly.

"You weep for the Deathwings because they are all dead. But at least they died defending the Confederation. At least they died for freedom!" Alvin was shouting now and he simply couldn't stop himself. The words were just flowing out of him now. "It's assholes like you, Jurgen, who wake everyday to freedom and peace and take it all for granted. I have neither the time or inclination to explain myself to someone who doesn't realize that freedom has to be paid for in blood and then questions the manner in which I help provide that freedom. I would rather you simply said 'thank you' and . . ."

"Captain Ng!" The colonel's voice was firmer now. "You're in contempt of court!"

Lieutenant Kristoff had run out from his seat and had placed a restraining hand on Alvin who was just about to climb out of the witness stand. "Your honor, I'd like to request a recess!"

"Yes, I think that would be prudent." The colonel frowned disapprovingly at Alvin. "And you'd best have a talk with your client about his temper."

Kristoff was frantically ushering Alvin out of the courtroom even as the president banged her gavel. Alvin didn't hear the president declaring a recess, nor could he make out the murmurings of those in attendance. As he approached the double wooden doors in a daze, he felt the urge to say something else.

But he knew it was already too late. The damage had already been done.

Seconds later, still being half-dragged by his defense counsel, Captain Alvin Ng exited the courtroom, and right into the jaws of the media jackals who were already waiting outside.

**0402 HOURS – 27 FEBRUARY, 2214**

Former Martian _Bundesarmee_ Hauptmann Peter Tan struggled to keep his eyes open. Despite his POW training back when he was a cadet, he had still managed to lose track of time during his solitary confinement in that dark, unlit cell.

Rubbing his hand along his jaw, he felt the thick, prickly stubble that had accumulated there. He had long grown used to being in the darkness, his body familiar with the limits of his accommodations. He kept himself sane with a host of mental exercises that he had learnt during his career, but even so, he knew that he was slowly losing his grip on sanity day by day.

The last interrogation had been about three to four days ago by his reckoning. His meals had been delivered to him irregularly, leaving him with little clue to the actual time of the day. He was almost certain it was a ploy to break him down. For the umpteenth time that day, he began to wonder if he'd ever see the light of day again.

As if on cue, the door to his cell was unlocked abruptly and it slid open to allow in the glaring fluorescent light of the adjacent corridor. Peter shut his eyes against the harsh glare of the light. Then the light softened as someone stood in the doorway. He didn't need to look to figure out who it was.

"Ah, Special Agent Lois Goh . . ." The Martian tried to sound genial despite his mounting discomfort. The corridor and freedom beyond the JIS agent looked invitingly tempting except for the fact that a heavily armed guard in a Decker exo-suit stood guard there. "And to what do I owe this honor?"

The woman made a derisive snort. "My superiors have considered your case and your request," she said in a very flat tone.

"They have?" Peter attempted to sound surprised. The offer he had made would have been most generous in any case and he was actually surprised it had taken the Jovian government so long to consider it. He suspected that the JIS agent standing before him might not have been thoroughly enthusiastic in conveying his proposal to her superiors.

"They have," was the terse, almost hostile reply. It was clear that she wasn't happy with whatever it was that she was tasked to tell him.

"I see . . ." Peter made a show of pondering over her response. And then, trying his best to come across as being nonchalant, he continued, "And?"

"My superiors . . ." She spat those words out in disgust, making clear to him what she thought of them. ". . . have decided that your offer is reasonable."

Despite his best effort, Peter couldn't resist the sharp intake of breath at hearing those words. It took him a few seconds to recover sufficiently to formulate a reply. All the while, the JIS agent was glaring at him. "They have?"

"Yes." Lois reverted to her flat, emotionless tone. "They have."

"I see . . ." Peter couldn't help smiling now.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She was staring at him with arms folded across her chest. "You ready to move now or not?"

She had stepped out of the cell and away from the doorway now and the light was blinding him once more. His way to the corridor was clear. The doorway was a brilliant portal now. Freedom beckoned. He took a few shuffling steps forward and stumbled out into the light.

He felt a hand clamping down on his shoulder. It was Lois. For a brief, desperate moment, he thought she was playing some sick, cruel joke on him. But then he saw the ghost of a smile forming on her face.

"Oh, and one last thing." She said in her still-serious voice. "Welcome to the Jovian Confederation."

**1137 HOURS – 28 FEBRUARY, 2214**

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Alvin shook himself for the umpteenth time that day. But he looked around the courtroom and knew that it was all for real. He had gone through the initial hearing and had scoffed at the charges being brought against him, pleading not guilty with confidence that he had done nothing wrong.

Now, after a widely-publicized court martial that had lasted more than a month, the charges of negligent homicide, dereliction of duty and gross negligence did not seem so ridiculous after all. Where he had thought the JAF was merely overreacting to the fact that he had lost his entire squadron in a spectacular but ill-fated attack against a CEGA carrier group, he now began to believe the prosecution did have a case. That he had allowed recklessness to get the better of him and allowed the Deathwings to charge headlong into a situation where they were annihilated in detail.

He had been so convinced that he had done the right thing. But then Captain Jurgen had attacked his defense with unbridled fury following Alvin's violent outburst in court. And even now, Alvin's own seemingly unshakeable sense of right and wrong had suffered from the very pointed questions that were directed at him. Questions that made him doubt his actual fitness to command in the very first place. He was only afraid now that he had allowed the doubt to show.

It was too late to do anything else now. He sat nervously next to his appointed attorney, the young and often optimistic Lieutenant Kristoff who had done an outstanding job arguing his case but had seemed to be outclassed by the government's prosecutor no matter how one looked at it. He glanced at the grim-faced jury who sat to his right. Their decision would decide whether his career would end this very day.

Captain Alvin Ng fidgeted uncomfortably at the palpable tension in the room. He had come under fire numerous times in the past, ejected from a crippled exo early in his career, then got blown out of another at the Battle of Kurtzenheim. Yet none of those experiences seemed nearly as harrowing as what he was going through now.

"The accused and his counsel will rise." The soprano voice of the colonel presiding over the court martial took Alvin by surprised, rousing him from his reverie.

Taking a deep breath, he drew himself fully erect, straightening his already immaculate uniform. He stood, features set in stone, fists clenched by his side awaiting judgment. The colonel looked over to the jury. The senior officer present, an aging captain, was already standing. "Are you ready to publish your findings, captain?"

"We are, your honor." The jury's representative replied in a clipped and measured tone that betrayed nothing.

"Very well. Proceed." The colonel nodded to the captain.

"Captain Alvin Ng, Gamma Division, Jovian Armed Forces," the captain said in a clear, sharp voice that belied his age. "On the eleven charges of negligent homicide, this court finds you . . . not guilty."

Alvin felt an immense sigh of relief escaping him. His complete acquittal from those charges would mean that he was more than halfway to getting off unscathed. At least he wouldn't be facing the certainty of life imprisonment.

The captain went on. "On the charge and specification of dereliction of duty, this court also finds you 'not guilty'."

The former exo squadron commander heaved yet another sigh of relief. At least now he was sure that he still had a career in the JAF. It wouldn't be much if he was found guilty of the final charge, but at least it meant he got to stay in and help fight the war.

And then it came. "On the charge and specification of gross negligence, this court finds you guilty."

Even though he had not been expecting to get away scot-free, that verdict still struck him like the proverbial ton of bricks. He glanced involuntarily at the captain who had delivered the verdict, noting that the man was masking his emotions well. There were several gasps of surprise from people sitting in the benches behind him but a quick glance over the shoulder told him that there were just as many satisfied smiles as well.

"Thank you, captain." The colonel nodded. "This court is in recess until 1300 hrs. We will reconvene for sentencing then." And then she banged the gavel. The court orderly called the court to its feet and the colonel who had presided over the court martial stalked out of the chamber.

"I'm sorry, sir." The Kristoff was saying as people began to file out of the courtroom.

"It's all right, lieutenant." Alvin tried to say reassuringly. "Two out of three is a lot better than what I was expecting."

"But, sir . . ."

"I'll get to stay in the JAF, lieutenant. And I won't be facing long-term confinement. That's enough for me." The exo pilot said in a manner that told the defense attorney that he wasn't expecting to be argued with. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Yes, sir." But Kristoff's client was already gone, the young lieutenant's words remaining unheard.

Alvin headed out the open doors of the courtroom . . . into a storm of waiting reporters who made him wish he had stayed put. More than a dozen questions came flying his way the instant he had made his appearance.

Most had already heard about the verdict. Many were asking for his reaction and opinion. Or at least that was what he assumed they were asking since he couldn't really hear most of them individually.

"Sir, sir! Do you think you're being made a scapegoat?" someone yelled.

"Captain Ng, what does this mean for your career?" another reporter bellowed.

"Given that you were once the JAF's rising star, do you think they're now making you a fall guy because they think your reputation can handle it?" That was the reporter from ZONET asking. "Was there a deal between you and your superiors?"

"Are you going to stay in the JAF, after what it's done to you?"

"Sir, aren't you going to protest against this sham? Don't you feel this was just a show trial?"

Realizing he was never going to get past the throng to get to the bathroom and that'd he'd never be able to retreat into the courtroom now, Captain Alvin Ng held up a hand. Slowly, the cacophony of sound began to die down. Alvin knew he had garnered a reputation for always having 'no comment', but now that the verdict had been passed, it was time to speak.

"Contrary to what many of you may think, I am not conspiring with my superiors to serve as a fall guy for the failures that occurred at Mars. I am here because those same superiors believe I erred in my judgment during the Battle of Kurtzenheim and that my leadership was suspect." There was a barrage of noise as he finished that remark and he held up his hand once more to still them. "Now, in retrospect, I must confess now that some culpability does lie in me."

Again the crowd of reporters exploded into conversation and questions were being hurled at him again. This time Alvin didn't bother trying to still them. He knew that if he went on talking and they would naturally fell silent since they wanted good quotes from the man who had evaded them for weeks.

"How can you say that, sir?" someone shouted, louder than the rest and there was a chorus of agreement. "You did nothing wrong!"

"Some of you wonder why am I guilty. Simply because I was in command." Alvin said quietly. This would probably be his last chance to tell his side of the story before the excitement around him died down and he became a minor character in the history of the JAF. "Those eleven pilots were part of my command. They were my responsibility. It is impossible for them all to be dead and for me to be blameless in the matter. As to whether I did anything wrong . . . Maybe, maybe not. It is the price of command. Every JAF commander knows that. This is war. People will die. And the way I see it, people are going to continue to die."

This time he was hit by a virtual avalanche of queries. They were asking his comment on the war and the JAF's performance so far. Some were fishing for positive comments while others were looking for ammunition that would later be used to slam the JAF for its poor showing at Kurtzenheim. Alvin knew there would be no possible benefit to gain from siding either faction and he said so. "No comment."

The crowd of reporters reacted in an ugly fashion. As if they had suddenly had something precious wrenched from their grasp. He tried to squeeze past them but they wouldn't budge. Not unless he did something a little more drastic. They were all around him now and there was no escape. The air around him was getting warmer and he could feel the mounting frustration within him. And the urge to use to bathroom was still there.

He looked around desperately for an escape route. There was none. He tried to think of some way to get out but his mind remained blank. Then as if on cue, he could see some MPs forcing their way through the horde. Kristoff was with them. Despite the press of humanity that surrounded him, still hurling questions at him and insults at the MPs simultaneously, Alvin saw Kristoff opening a narrow passage through the wall of reporters. His defense counsel beckoned and Alvin wasted no time getting out.

Gladly allowing himself to be ushered down the corridor by his attorney, Alvin watched with a certain degree of satisfaction as the court orderly finally appeared and with the assistance of several MPs, formed a cordon that held back the howling media jackals.

"That wasn't very smart, sir." The Kristoff remarked as they moved towards the bathroom.

"Thanks for the save."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Look, I'll see you later, alright?" Alvin's tone made it clear that he still wanted to spend sometime alone.

"Alright, sir. Just watch yourself, the whole place in crawling with reporters." Kristoff cautioned.

Alvin nodded and turned off, heading to the nearest washroom. Making sure that he wasn't followed, he opened the door and ducked in. Only to run into the elderly captain who had headed the jury. "Pardon me," Alvin said as he caught the man before he tumbled back.

"No apologies required." The man said quietly, then he added with an outstretched hand. "Captain Compton, currently with Gamma Division Intelligence Division."

"I see . . ." Alvin said suspiciously, taking the man's hand and shaking it hurriedly. Shaking hands with the man who could have potentially voted him guilty of negligence didn't particularly appeal to him. "A pleasure," he added, not really meaning it.

"Had some trouble with the media just now, didn't you?" Compton's question sounded more like a statement.

"Just telling my side of the story." Alvin said simply. "Before you know it, half of them will be exalting me as some fallen martyr who was made a scapegoat for Kurtzenheim while the other half would be baying for blood and calling upon the court to crucify me."

"Nice analogy, Ng." Compton grinned. "But I don't think you'd have to worry about crucifixion as a form of punishment under the Jovian Code of Military Justice."

"I suppose not." Then the Alvin's wry grin gave way to a look of unfathomable sadness. "You know, regardless of what the court or public thinks, I'll never forgive myself for what happened at Mars."

"And why not?"

"Those were my people who died at Mars. People I'd spent months training. I'd known some of them for years. And then they're all gone. Just like that." Alvin paused and allowed some of the raw emotion to bleed away. "Those damn reporters had no idea just how close they were to understanding the truth. I'll bet no one in the courtroom truly understands the loss. Even if I were acquitted of everything, I'd still be guilty. Guilty of failing my people when they needed me to lead them of a tough situation. I might as well have pulled the trigger on the shots that killed them."

"Now hold on a moment, Ng!" Compton's brows were furrowed in an elaborate frown. "It was a tough fight. And you were almost killed yourself. The odds were heavily stacked against you."

"Fate spared me then." Alvin looked down at himself. "And for what?"

Compton seemed to hesitate, then he finally spoke. "Look, just between you and me, Ng, I'll tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"My son was stationed aboard the JSS _Dauntless_ which got crippled during that fiasco over Mars. Intelligence reports and analysis has showed that had your squadron not have intervened by attacking that carrier group, it would have run into _Dauntless_ and well . . . no prizes for guessing what that would have meant."

Alvin didn't reply. He just stared at the man in silence, unsure of what to think.

"What I'm trying to say is that at least _one_ person is grateful for what you did." Compton put a hand on Alvin's shoulder. "My son's alive today because of what you did."

"So you don't think I was guilty of any of the charges?" Alvin was frowning.

"You know I can't tell you what my decision was." Compton replied somewhat hesitantly. "I just want to thank you for what you did and . . . Ng, are you ok? You look like you're in pain."

Alvin grinned sheepishly as he shook off Compton's grip and began to step past the man. "Look, I really appreciate your thanks and all, but I really need to use the bathroom _now_."

**1300 HOURS – 28 FEBRUARY, 2214**

"All rise!" The court orderly bellowed and everyone in the courtroom came to their feet as the president of the court martial made her entrance. After the exchange of formalities, those in attendance took their seats as the colonel made a show of arranging her notes.

The jury had already been dismissed, their services no longer required and thus the row of seats to Alvin's right were unnervingly empty. Captain Jurgen was seated to his left, his face displaying a mixture of glee and disappointment. Their eyes met for a brief moment and Alvin could see the hate in the other man's gaze. For whatever reason, Jurgen had taken this whole trial very personally and it must have riled him to have only gotten one conviction out of so many charges he had brought forth.

"The accused and his counsel will rise."

Alvin and the young lieutenant who had assisted him so eagerly for the past few weeks rose from their heavy wooden chairs to stand at rigid attention.

The colonel cleared her throat, then spoke clearly and deliberately. "Captain Alvin Ng, of Gamma Division, Jovian Armed Forces. Having been found guilty by this court on the charge and specification of gross negligence, this court sentences you to be reduced to the rank of lieutenant with the loss of two year's seniority."

While it wasn't the very worst punishment that could have been meted out to him, he still had trouble steeling his jaw and looking impassive as the sentence was pronounced. He felt his fists bunching up by his side and saw Jurgen's smirk of satisfaction.

"Court dismissed." The colonel said simply as she banged her gavel for the last time.

"All rise."

Once more, those in attendance rose and waited until the president had departed before taking their own leave.

"I'm really sorry, sir . . . I . . ." Kristoff began to say.

"No, no. I'll be fine." The exo pilot held up a hand to forestall any further comment. "And please do not call me 'sir'. We're of equal rank now."

"But . . . "Kristoff didn't get to finish.

"Told you I'd nail you, Ng!" Jurgen was sneering as he came up to them. Alvin fought for control, resisting the rising urge to lash out with his fists.

"Hey, the trial's over!" Kristoff protested, interposing himself between Jurgen and his client. "So why don't you lay off . . . sir."

"Don't tell me what to do, _lieutenant_." Jurgen told Kristoff superciliously. "You'd do well to remember your place."

"So you got me, Jurgen." Alvin replied, mentally counting to ten. "Happy?"

"First off, that's _Captain _Jurgen to you, _lieutenant_. And no, I'm not happy. You should have gotten it a lot worse. You were just lucky."

"I'll bet I am." Alvin growled in reply. He could tell that Kristoff was eyeing him cautiously. If he even tried anything, his attorney would surely be there to stop him.

"Damn right you are." Jurgen went on. "You're a murderer, Ng. Your men died because you screwed up, plain and simple."

"That's not what the court thinks."

"Well, you and I both know the truth."

"In that case, then you ought to get out of my face before you get added to the list." The exo pilot took a single, menacing step forward.

"Are you threatening me?" Jurgen chuckled, feigning amusement. Alvin could see the twinge of fear in the other man's eyes. "I'm sure you don't want to end up in court again. Of course, if that's what you want, I don't mind getting another chance and nailing you and putting you away for good."

Alvin let out a low growl but he stepped back. His career in the JAF was already in tatters and it wouldn't do to make it worse by doing something as stupid as striking a senior officer. Though it would certainly have felt good.

"Well?" Jurgen was daring him and Alvin knew just how much he really wanted to wipe that smirk off the prosecutor's face. It was so very easy to simply lose control now and allow all the pent up aggression take over. He felt the familiar red haze coming over him.

"No." He made himself say, even though he knew he didn't really mean it. "That won't be necessary . . . sir."

"Oh, you disappoint me, Ng. What happened to all that aggressiveness that supposedly makes you a good exo commander?" Jurgen taunted and Alvin saw Kristoff move a little bit closer towards him to block any aggressive move he might make.

"I guess I lost it." Alvin said softly, then he turned away abruptly, heading towards the exit.

"Hey, come back here!"

Alvin ignored the man, refusing to slow down or look over the shoulder.

"You know what? You're a phony! That's what you are! Nothing but a fake!"

But now-Lieutenant Alvin Ng refused to take the bait and he stepped out of the courtroom, leaving the raving prosecutor behind.

Deep inside his heart, he knew he had left behind something more. He knew that something had died within him as he watched his squadron die around him over Mars. He also knew that something greater had been lost when the court had passed its verdict.

Perhaps it was akin to the ultimate betrayal. In his twelve years of service in the JAF, he had always known himself to be a rising star. Originally choosing the career of an enlisted man and working his way to Sergeant in his first five years of service.

Then had come the dramatic switch when he was selected to go to Officer Training School. In just under six years, he had risen to the rank of Captain, a feat which would normally take eight to nine years for personnel who start their careers in the officer path.

The JAF had meant everything to him. In that dozen years of service, he had served with the elite Elysian Home Guard, graduated near the top of his JECATS (Jovian Exo-Combat Advanced Training School) class and then proceeding to do the same at OTS. He had faced off the CEGA in the Sagittarius Incident and then participated in the _Beautiful Dreamer_ Incident where JAF and CEGA naval forces exchanged fire for the first time.

In his career, he had held numerous prestigious appointments. In addition to commanding the Deathwings, he had been a flight leader aboard the legendary _Godsfire_, commanded the Solar Flares exo demonstration team as well as the Razorbacks aboard the JSS _Flail_ and also as an instructor at the famous Redeye Station, home to JECATS.

He had fought at Elysée, Europa and most recently in the Battle of Kurtzenheim. In these major actions as well as a few other minor combats, he had managed to amass a kill score of fourteen, making him the twelfth highest scoring exo pilot in the entire JAF.

And this was how the organization had rewarded him. After twelve years of sterling service. After a single battle which he had lost his entire squadron in the face of overwhelming odds while trying to accomplish the mission assigned to him. He had failed just that once. And now they had demoted him, stripped him of command. In a few months, he would probably be forgotten. He was almost certain about that as he pushed his way through the news hounds once more. This time the MPs were already on hand to clear the way for him.

He wanted to tell the reporters to go home. To leave him alone and find another story. In a week or so, he'd be old news. And if anyone in the Confederation did remember Alvin Ng, it would be the memory of the man who had lost his squadron in a disastrous battle with the CEGA and nothing more.

Now that he was convicted and justice had supposedly been served, he would be swept under the carpet while the next batch of rising stars would overshadow him. Maybe someone in higher command would remember that there was a war on. Maybe someone would think that the Confederation would need every skilled pilot it could find to help fight the CEGA. Perhaps someone would decide that while Alvin Ng may not have been the best of exo squadron commanders, he was still worth putting in the cockpit of an exo armor. Maybe . . .

He had kept his back ramrod straight and his jaw set as he left the court complex. It may have made for good footage. The fallen hero, walking off stoically into the sunset for the last time. He may even have fooled the media. But he couldn't fool himself. Deep down inside, he felt his heart breaking into a million pieces.


	8. Episode 7: Assignments

**Fresh Beginnings #1**

**Episode 7: Assignments**

_The brass will always point the way, to the stars so far away . . ._

-Popular JAF Song Lyric-

**0751 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

"The war between the Confederation and the CEGA flared hot again last night when JAF warships clashed with a CEGA convoy in the vicinity of asteroid bel. While CEGA officials have maintained that the convoy was bearing emergency medical supplies to one of their outlying research stations, JAF spokespersons have claimed to have conclusive evidence showing that the vessels in question were part of a munitions convoy headed for naval bases along the frontier of the asteroid belt."

Adelene Chan looked up from her seat in and at the video screen mounted at the front of the passenger compartment of the shuttle she was riding. It was a pre-recorded ZONET broadcast, bringing top-of-the-hour news to the inhabitants of the Solar System. A series of images and footage was playing on the screen now, most of it being archive material which she had seen time and again in the past.

"While military officials on both sides have declined to comment on their losses, eyewitness reports have indicated that at least one JAF warship and three ships from the CEGA convoy were destroyed in the engagement. Exo-armor and interceptor elements were also said to have taken part though it is unclear if any were lost." The voiceover went on.

So the war was really heating up again and people were beginning to take notice. Of course, she had access to the reports that had been coming in over the past few weeks. Despite the official policy by adopted by both nations aimed at avoiding future clashes following the Battle of Kurtzenheim in hopes of working towards a negotiated peace, the reality of the situation was nowhere near as pleasant.

Such a policy did not mean that the JAF had only been passively defending Jovian space. Several pre-emptive strikes had already been carried out against targets that were deemed as a threat to the Confederation should the CEGA decide on an offensive campaign any time in the future. And with no progress in the negotiations at the United Solar Nations, the CEGA and Confederation were still in a _de facto_ state of war. The way Adelene saw it, it was only going to be a matter of time before either side would push for a more violent resolution to the conflict. Of course, the Jovian public had by and large remained blissfully unaware of JAF offensive operations . . . until now.

"Neither side has been willing to display any of the proof that is said to substantiate their version of the story." The unseen newsreader concluded. "In other news, the JAF announced that the first phase of its expansion plan since the start of the war has been completed. With the influx of volunteers rushing to sign up for a stint in their nation's defense forces, the JAF has expanded nearly twofold in terms of personnel and equipment since the start of the war."

Adelene sat up and took real notice of that. A part of her wondered if any of this stuff she was hearing was actually supposed to be secret. "Four more exo/fighter squadrons were established for service this week, bringing the total number of new squadrons formed since the declaration of war to sixteen. These new squadrons are the Starslayers of Alpha Division, the Vanguard Defenders of Beta Divisio and the Olympian Thunderbolts and Dirty Dozen of Gamma Division." The insignia of the squadrons were now being flashed on-screen.

The one that interested Adelene most was that of the Olympian Thunderbolts. The emblem was a simple variation of the Confederations thunderbolt ensign. Instead of the mailed fist grasping twin, crossed thunderbolts, the squadron's insignia consisted of a gloved fist grasping a single, golden lightning bolt, poised to hurl it downwards.

"Reports indicate that the various squadron leaders and their pilots are already on their way to their stations and that these new units will be operational soon."

Adelene smiled at that and she looked out the window next to her. Khannan Base was coming into view now. The massive military facility was the home port of Gamma Division's fleet and the heart of her operations in peace and war. Even though it wasn't her first time to Khannan, the sight of that gargantuan space station, hovering in Ganymede's orbit, still left her awed.

While Khannan was not as impressive in terms of size as Geiersburg in the Trojan State of Vanguard Mountain, there was no mistaking the dormant, untapped power of the dozens of warships that were anchored around the station like shoals of silvery white fish. Scores of shuttles, cutters and launches were making transits back and forth while hundreds of M-pods and exo-suited maintenance crews and welding teams swarmed over the vessels like so many fireflies.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window as the shuttle made a slow lazy turn towards the base. The golden bars set on navy blue tabs on her collars twinkled in the lightning of the passenger cabin.

_Lieutenant Adelene Chan_ . . . she thought to herself and felt the tug at the corners of her mouth as the smile on her face grew. It was about time. After investing six years in the JAF, four of them flying interceptors off various carriers and space stations, she could finally exchange the square tabs of her probationary rank of Warrant Officer for the coveted rectangular blue tabs of a commissioned officer.

Unlike other armed forces in the Solar System, Jovian officers were never commissioned immediately after their officer training. Instead, they were granted the rank of Warrant Officer where they would serve for a period of anywhere between three to eight years before they were considered eligible for actual commissioning. This relatively long delay explained why there were so few officer ranks as compared to the structures of other nations.

The first commissioned rank was that of lieutenant, followed subsequently by captain, commander, colonel and finally general.

But it wasn't just the rank that Adelene was elated about. It was more than just the increased pay or those shiny, golden bars. More than the satisfaction of having _earned_ that commission.

She had been mentioned indirectly in that news bulletin. The Olympian Thunderbolts were hers to command. The post-Kurtzenheim JAF was a very different force from the one that she had first chosen to make a career in. Many pilot officers had either been killed or wounded in that cataclysmic battle while others have been removed from command for various reasons. Some for their participation in putting the Confederation on the slippery road to war with the CEGA, some for being part of the Principii conspiracy and a few others for dereliction of duty resulting in a near-defeat in the skies over Mars.

With the expansion of the JAF, particularly its exo armor and fighter arms, the need for experienced officers was more acute than ever. The Battle of Kurtzenheim had been the event where many promising young officers had won their spurs while older, inadequate officers were removed for failing when put to the test in the cauldron of war. As a result, Lieutenant Adelene Chan had found herself placed in command not long after her promotion.

The combat squadron command slots in the JAF were dominated by exo pilots. Interceptor pilots seldom got to command the fleet squadrons unless they were purely interceptor units. Exo squadrons were naturally led by exo pilots while mixed force squadrons tended to be led by exo pilots as well. It had pleased her intensely to know that she had beaten the odds and become one of the rare interceptor pilots to hold command of a mixed force squadron.

The hatchway to the shuttle's flight deck slid open and the flight engineer, a young corporal struck her head back into the passenger cabin. "We're almost there, ma'am. I suggest you start belting up again."

Adelene nodded wordlessly and began to work the seat harness across her body. She could detect the change in pitch of the shuttle's engines. The inertial compensators gave her the impression that the shuttle was decelerating as it got closer to its destination. In another few minutes, she would be arriving at Khannan and with that, her very first command. Glancing at her reflection once more, she straightened her uniform, grasping both collars and giving them a good tug to ensure a snug fit around her neck. Again, the rectangular rank tabs gleamed in the light.

_Command_! How she had longed for this. It had been her dream ever since she took the oath of service and started her path on the career to being an officer in the JAF. Now at the age of twenty-five, she was a lieutenant, with command of a squadron to boot.

Outside, the view of the star-specked blackness was replaced abruptly by the massive interior of a docking bay as the shuttle slid in on final approach. Off to one side, she could see several repair teams working to patch up a gaping hole in the side of a _Corsair_-class frigate with the help of an M-pod.

The shuttle was gliding along now, down the length of the immense docking bay. There were several other ships docked here including the fabled _Godsfire_ which had revolutionized modern starship design when it first appeared.

And then the surroundings had stopped moving past the window and she could feel the shuttle rotating on the spot. There was a mechanical whine as the shuttle deployed its landing gear. A moment and a touch of thrusters later, the small ship had slipped into an auxiliary craft bay, the pilot setting down his charge without anything more than a barely perceptible bump.

Lieutenant Adelene Chan waited for the sound of the engines to finally die down before she started to undo the restraints that held her to her seat. Behind her, the boarding ramp was starting to lower itself.

**0802 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

Corporal Joshua Loke resisted the urge to even shift nervously as the leading edge of the shuttle's ramp began to close the gap with the deck. He wriggled his toes inside his magnetic boots and took a deep breath. Meeting a new commanding officer for the first time always made him anxious.

After his 'stay' with the JIS following the Battle of Kurtzenheim, he had longed for a combat assignment again. The extensive 'debriefs' by the intelligence people had left no doubt in his mind that he was under suspicion and it had taken weeks to convince his interrogators that his close proximity to a Martian Federation defector did not make him a traitor or any sort.

Despite being placed on TAD (Temporarily Assigned Duty) which saw him being detached from his squadron to JIS Headquarters, he never managed to see Hauptmann Peter Tan again. Subtle inquiries about the defector only resulted in his questioners become dubious of his reliabiliry and he had spent even more time undergoing interrogation, debriefing and questioning as well as the occasional 'test'. By the time he was a truly free man again, his squadron had deployed to space once more. Without him.

When the JIS was finally done with him, he was without a unit. He had jumped from temporary assignment to assignment while the people in Manpower tried to figure out where they could slot him. He had wanted to get back into the cockpit of an exo though he feared that something he had said in the countless 'interview; might have given them reason to mark him down as unreliable.

He discovered those fears to be unfounded when her finally received orders to join the Olympian Thunderbolts which was being formed on Khannan Base. He had arrived four days ago in high spirits, thrilled at having the chance to get back into a combat post. But any illusions of his new assignment being a special unit like his previous one were dispelled the moment he arrived.

There were no officers to begin with. The squadron wasn't even at half-strength and was provisionally led by one Sergeant Ryan Tan, an outspoken interceptor pilot who seemed suspiciously old for his rank. The man had not seemed to take much joy in his job and he hardly cared about them, checking on them from time to time to make sure none of them had gone AWOL and precious little else. He hadn't even allowed them to fly though they certainly had the equipment in place.

That had disappointed Joshua most. The inability to strap into an exo and take to the skies once more. It was an urge that had only been made stronger by his stay with his JIS interrogators.But there was a little bit of hope, now that the squadron leader had finally arrived.

Apart from the sergeant, four other pilots were all that made up the squadron which should have had a strength of twelve. Sergeant Ryan Tan was actually a grizzled veteran of a _Lancer_ pilot of so he liked to claim in the rare moments that he actually got them together as a squadron. He was a squat man, with a wide chest that might have once been powerful. He was also brimming with intelligence though he possessed a caustic wit and he never seemed keen on making friends with anyone.

The only other interceptor pilot in the squadron at the moment was Private Grace Fong. By any standards, she was puny. Even in the lower gravity of the Jovian space colonies, her height had not even exceeded the average of planet-bound humans. Shy and humble, Grace was certainly dedicated to her work, taking everything that came her way with a great deal of seriousness and reverence. Immensely bright, she had all the makings of a good officers had she not been so soft-spoken. However, the needs of the JAF always came first and so she had found herself posted to the Thunderbolts to being her career as a junior enlisted interceptor pilot in the squadron. One thing was for sure. She'd make a good office some day.

Joshue looked at the other two privates standing next to him. Both of them had arrived the day after he had. Apparently John Cheah and Breanna Chan had badgered their previous CO for a transfer and they had ended up in the Thunderbolts. Both of them had gone through exo-training together and despite their apparent animosity, they were actually the best of friends.

Like the other men in squadron, John was sturdily built and not particularly tall. He was more muscular, built like a bull and allegedly possessing the intellectual abilities comparable to one, if Breanna could be trusted. Despite coming across as a brute at times, Joshua and John had hit it off rather well.

Where John was reputedly clumsy and ungainly, Breanna Chan was a spunky little woman who exuded graceful agility. Joshua had the feeling she was an excellent pilot though John would never admit it and Breanna was simply too humble to confess that to a combat veteran such as himself. But judging from the way he saw her _move_ in zero-gravity, Joshua was sure they already had a potential ace amongst them.

And for the moment, these two were _his_ people since he was the senior exo-pilot amongst them. It seemed ridiculous that he was commanding was administratively amounted to a flight. That was the job of a junior officer or at least a senior sergeant and he was neither.

The ramp made contact with the deck and a lone female officer, wearing the gleaming new collar tabs of a lieutenant on her shoulders, made her way down the ramp. Though Joshua had no idea why at that point in time, he heard Breanna gasp next to him.

**0803 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

Lieutenant Adelene Chan was not prepared for what she saw the moment she stepped off the shuttle's ramp. The seasoned sergeant who greeted her looked as if he had a week's stubble on his jaw and was clad in overalls which looked like he had worn to sleep.

"Good morning, ma'am." His hand came up slowly in a slipshod imitation of a salute.

She frowned at that and did not respond immediately. Looking him once over, she noted that his 'uniform', if one could call it that, was a disheveled, unwashed mess. Resisting the urge to pick on everything that was wrong with him in one go and coming across as a martinet, she started off with, "Very sloppy salute, _Sergeant_." She made his rank sound like an insult, keeping both hands firmly by her side.

She could see a flash of anger and defiance in the sergeant's eyes. Then his hand, which was still held near his right brow, wavered and finally dropped. When it came up again, the salute was considerably sharper despite a very pronounced reluctance to it.

"Good morning, ma'am." His voice was now devoid of any emotion.

"Morning, Sergeant . . ." She grated and stepped a little closer to him, trying to make out the grease-stained nametag on the chest of his overalls.

"Ryan Tan. That's me." There was a slight edge of insolence in the way he spoke.

"And you're the acting . . . commander, of the Olympian Thunderbolts?" She had been careful not to address him as the Commanding Officer since he was only a sergeant after all.

"Commander, custodian, nursemaid, babysitter. You can call we what you want." Ryan replied almost disinterestedly. "But yeah, this bunch of misfits are mine."

"Not anymore." The lieutenant said coldly. "As of now, they . . . and _you_ belong to _me_."

""Why, certainly, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am." There was something infuriating about the haughty way that he said those word. "I stand relieved. Both officially and literally, of course."

"That's not funny, Sergeant." Adelene snapped. "And don't you know what it means to shave?"

"I'm trying to grow a beard then, ma'am. Ain't nothing in the JAF Dress Instructions that say I can't."

"You're right," she conceded. "But that monstrosity on your face is not what I'd call a beard, so get rid of it. _Today_. Return to ranks."

"Ok, ma'am." And Ryan turned smartly, almost tauntingly on his heel and strutted off to join the pilots who were assembled to meet her.

At a glance, she could tell that Ryan had obviously not been particularly picky about the individual turnout of the pilots. The guys were pretty chunky – muscle or flab, she'd soon find out. The women, like herself, were on the petite side and she froze when her eyes came to rest on one of them. _No_ . . . _it _couldn't _be_ . . .

But it was _her_ and Adelene Chan could see the flash of recognition in the other pilot's eyes. Breanna Chan was standing before her, wearing the uniform of the JAF, with the qualifying insignia of an exo-pilot pinned on her chest.

Any reunion, happy or otherwise, would have to wait for now. Smoothing over her features to hide any further signs of surprise, she stepped up to them. She put on her best 'command face' and hope it would make a better first impression with the rest of the pilots than she had with the sergeant.

"Good morning, people. I am Lieutenant Adelene Chan and I will be your squadron commander."

**0835 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

"Captain Ho?" The blonde sergeant at the desk flashed a dimpled smile as she looked up at the man who had been sitting on the couch, waiting patiently for the last half hour. "The General will see you now."

Captain Andy Ho, former CO of the JSS _Falchion_, rose from the sofa and straightened his uniform. Behind him, the leather of the couch began to shift up gradually, indicative of the long period he had spent sitting. He crossed over to the large double doors that lead to the personal domain of Gamma Division's commander.

"Good luck, sir." The sergeant winked at him.

"Thanks." He rapped his knuckles against the door thrice in quick succession, then paused for a few heartbeats before twisting the knob and taking the plunge.

General Konrad Koudriopoulos looked every bit like the man who had appeared in the newsvids. Tall, broad-shouldered with handsomely chiseled features and dark green eyes framed by those famous, bushy brown brows. He rose the moment he saw the captain shutting the door behind him.

Captain Ho's hand came up automatically in a sharp salute as he stopped before GamDivCom's desk. "Captain Andy Ho, reporting as ordered, sir!"

The General returned the salute before extending his hand across the table. "Welcome, Captain. Sorry to have to drag you from your work."

"It is fine, sir. The disturbance was minimal." Andy replied crisply as he took the General's hand.

"I'll be it was." GamDivCom grinned. "I'm told that you're going crazy down there in BuShips."

"Frankly, sir . . . I don't think BuShips is the place for me." Andy admitted, referring to his current assignment with the Jovian Armed Force's Bureau of Ships, which oversaw the design, procurement and construction of warships.

"Not as exciting as commanding your own ship, isn't it?" Koudriopoulos allowed a slight smile as he saw the junior's man's heartfelt nod of agreement. "Please, Captain. Do have a seat."

They both took their seats and Andy made sure he sat upright, unwilling to take any of the General's hospitality for granted.

"You must be wondering why I sent for you. We'll come to that in a moment." Koudriopoulos smiled again. "But first, I want to commend you for a job well done in proposing those changes to the _Majestic_-class design. I read your report myself and it was fantastic work."

"I only wish I did a better job with the _Falchion_ at Kurtzenheim." Andy replied regretfully.

"You think that's why you got saddled with a desk job?" The General eyed him critically from across his large, ornate desk.

"Honestly, sir? Yes. Seems to be the case with a number of other officers."

"Koudriopoulos stared at Andy, then looked away thoughtfully. "You're right. There was just no avoiding that witch hunt after Kurtzenheim. Our fleet got mauled there when we shouldn't have."

"With our new ships coming online, I'm sure we'd be able to meet the CEGA forces on better terms the next time." Andy offered by way of consolation.

"Makes you really wish you were commanding one of them, doesn't it?" The General fixed him with a conspiratorial look. "Which brings me to the reason I've called you here. What do you know about the _Fantasia_ Project?

"Sir, that's the upgrade program for the _Forge_-class carriers, isn't it?" Andy saw the General nod and he frowned slightly as he tried to recall some details. "I thought the plans were shelved back last July and the design never left the drawing board?"

"That was before Kurtzenheim, Captain." Koudriopoulos explained. "Anyway, we _did_ begin work on one of the hulls originally designated for a _Forge_-class vessel. The modifications were easy enough to make and she's almost complete. _Fantasia_ will be the first ship in the _Forge _II line of vessels."

"I see. But don't we already have the _Majestics_?"

"Let's face it, Andy. You and I know that the _Majestic_ is a supercarrier designed for large fleet engagements. And God knows, neither the President or the Agora is likely to let us risk them in battle until we've built them up in sufficient numbers. In the meantime, we're still going to need something that can patrol the space lances and still bring a credible striking power to the frontlines. And given the fact that we are now at war, we're going to need more platforms out there carrying fighters and exos to guard our borders." Koudriopoulos said by way of explanation.

"I suppose you have a point there. And with the ability to accommodate a full squadron without impairment to its range and endurance, I guess the _Forge_ II will be perfect for the task."

"Exactly. That is of course if the design proves to be every good as it's said to be."

"True. So how exactly do I fit in?"

Koudriopoulos took a breath and smiled. "Not wasting time now, are you? I'm sorry that this is rather belated. The orders had already been cut but after Kurtzenheim, I really wanted people who were there to sit on the _Majestic_'s design review team, hence the necessary diversion from combat duty."

"Sir . . .?" Andy noted that the General was grinning now. "You mean . . .?"

"Congratulations, Captain Ho. _You_ are going to be the first commander of the first ship in the _Forge_ II line of vessels. You are to report to the _Fantasia_ tomorrow to take command and make all preparations for her space trials. I expect you to be out of dock in no more than two months."

**0835 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

Having given her pep talk to the pilots who would soon be flying under her command, she had told them to stand easy while she went over the squadron's inventory with the sergeant. The twelve vehicle bays located in the squadron hangar were relatively new and she was glad at the knowledge that she wasn't receiving machines that had seen hard action in recent history.

Three _Pathfinder _Alphas and a single _Pathfinder_ ST or sniper version, made up the squadron's present exo complement. She wasn't really an expert on exos but she knew that the _Pathfinders_ were best classified as light, general-purpose machines capable of scouting, early warning, interception and combat aerospace patrols. It wasn't a particularly durable unit as the Battles of Elysée and Kurtzenheim have already proven. The ST version removed all of the standard weaponry for a single high-precision railgun that had a reputation of destroying enemy exos with a single well-placed hit.

Since, she wasn't yet sure who amongst the three exo pilots was the best shot or whether there would be any better marksmen arriving in the days to come to flesh out the rest of her squadron, she would keep Joshua, Breanna and John on the three Alphas for now.

For the fighters, she had a single _Intruder_, which she already decided would be hers. Five _Lancers_ made up the rest of the complement. Capable of multiple mission modes thanks to its configurable and detachable Advanced Tactical Mission Pod, she would have to spend some time working with Ryan and Grace to find out what roles they excelled in.

"The machines look pretty much in good shape, sergeant." She looked over at the enlisted man who had followed her on her tour of the squadron hangar. "Can't say the same for the people though."

Sergeant Ryan Tan took no heed of the barbed comment and Adelene made a note to review his records later. She needed to find out what exactly made this man tick and if she found reason enough, she wouldn't hesitate to put in transfer papers for him.

"Aren't there any other officers other than me?" Adelene asked, more in frustration than in curiosity.

"We were expecting one junior officer earlier today. One of the flight leaders. So far, only you have turned up."

"Well, then go and find out what's happened then," Adelene shook her head, appalled at the man's apparent lack of interest. "I think I can handle things down here."

"Yes, ma'am. Very well." And without another word or a salute, the sergeant turned and stalked out of the hangar.

For a long moment, Adelene stood in the centre of the hangar, staring up at the towering exo armors and the sleek interceptors. Ten high-tech machines in all. Six more to form a full squadron's complement with spares. And she'd need more pilots too. Officers in particular.

She heard someone moving towards her and she turned. It was Private Breanna Chan.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

"Oh, screw it, Bre. You can drop that 'ma'am' crap around me." Adelene replied in a tone of mild frustration. "Please . . . I'm your sister!"

"Doesn't exempt me from military protocol, does it? And I thought you've always dreamed of having people call you that?" Breanna wasn't exactly all smiles to see her again. "Besides, would you like the rest of the squadron to know?"

"Does it matter what they think?"

"Maybe not to you. But it does to me." Breanna was being every bit as difficult as Adelene had remembered her to be.

"Look, Bre, I don't want to argue . . ."

"Now _that_ would be a first." The junior pilot replied brusquely.

"Hey, I've changed, you know?"

"No, I don't know. And why should I? You've not been home in nearly three years. And it's not like you've been writing either."

"Hey, unless you haven't noticed, there _is_ a war on, you know?" In spite of herself, Adelene could feel her temper rising. It had been so long since they last met that she had forgotten what it was like to argue with Breanna.

"And you've become pretty good at it. Or at least that's what I've heard." There was surprisingly no bitterness in those words and Adelene interpreted it as an attempt at a disarming statement.

"So _why_ are you here, Bre?" Adelene looked at her sister with mild distress. "What are you doing in that uniform? And what the hell is that doing on your chest?" She was pointing to the thunderbolt and mailed fist insignia of the JAF's exo armor arm which was unlike the thunderbolts and wings that Adelene herself wore, denoting her status as an interceptor pilot.

For the first time since they met again, Adelene saw her sister's lips crack into a smile. And it was anything but pleasant. It was that familiar smug look which Adelene was beginning to realize that she missed after al these years. "Well, you said it yourself, sis. There's a war on."

"Damn it, Bre. Don't you play around with me! We've been at war for barely six months. It takes a good eighteen months to train an exo pilot. That means you enlisted before we went to war!"

"I'm not blind. I could see it coming, sis." Breanna explained. "Many of us could. After Elysée, you'd be stupid to think that we could remain at peace with Earth forever."

"Why didn't you tell me you joined up?" Adelene demanded.

"Well, you haven't exactly been the most frequent of writers. And I knew you'd probably try to psych me into piloting interceptors instead of exos." Breanna told her sister sharply. "You were always fond of your fighters."

"That's because exos are deathtraps!" Adelene exploded. It was the same old debate on the superiority of interceptors and exos again. And this time, she was hearing it from her own flesh and blood. Her own sister! "Damn it, I was at Kurtzenheim, Bre! I saw dozens of exos die! Didn't you hear the figures on the news. Over a _hundred_ exos were destroyed on either side in the grand mess!"

"And of course you're just _forgetting_ to mention the forty-eight fighters that we lost." Breanna pointed out calmly. "That's a loss rate of nearly seventy percent of the fighters engaged as opposed to the forty percent losses the exos suffered. Sorry, sis. The raw numbers don't really speak for themselves this time."

"This isn't about fun and games or numbers, Bre. This is dangerous work." Adelene barked. "People get killed doing this sort of thing."

"You think I don't know that? And what do you expect me to do? Leave the JAF?" Breanna shook her head viciously, exasperatedly. "Please, I'm _not_ a little girl anymore! Stop telling me what's good for me!"

"Breanna, you're being stubborn about this . . ."

"No, _you_ are the one who's being stubborn. You've just been flying those stupid fighters of yours for too bloody long . . ." Breanna shot back, her body shifting into an aggressive stance that made the best of her small size. That was enough to give Adelene pause for a moment. Unlike interceptor pilots, exo pilots did receive mandatory training in unarmed combat.

"And what do you know about fighters?" Adelene glared down at her sister. "Oh, don't be such and _idiot_, Bre!"

"Oh, so _now_ I'm an 'idiot'?" Fists were bunched up now. "I guess I stopped being your sister whenever you stop winning an argument . . ."

"Now, see here . . .!"

"Um excuse me, ladies . . ." Those words, while spoken softly and politely, came from a male and the two sisters stopped to turn at the person who had the audacity to intrude.

Standing in front of them was a handsome young man wearing the tabs of a Warrant Officer and the wings of an interceptor pilot. His bulging duffel bag was laid by his side. There was a certain boyish charm to him as he smiled awkwardly at them.

"What do you want?" Adelene spat.

"Um, so sorry to interrupt . . . I'm looking for the Olympian Thunderbolts . . ." Then the man noticed the bars on Adelene's collar and came to attention, saluting and completing his sentence. ". . . ma'am."

The CO of the Olympian Thunderbolts literally flung a salute back at the man and snarled. "Well, you've found us. Who the hell are you?"

"I've orders to report to this squadron." He dug inside his jacket, fumbling for a thin plastic data sheet. "I'm Officer James Wong, ma'am."

"You are also late." Adelene frowned outwardly and groaned inwardly. What was the universe coming to? She gave the man another hard look and her mind kept screaming the same thing. He looked to young to be an officer. Too young to lead men and women into battle. Too young to die.

**1300 HOURS – ****01 MARCH, 2214******

"Pla-_toon_! Atten-_shun_!" Master Sergeant Ron Foo barked and the Marines assembled before him came to rigid attention as one. The platoon was smaller now than it had been before they had embarked on their last, fateful deployment to Mars.

Several replacements had arrived in the meantime, their faces fresh and cherubic, out of place amidst the collage of combat-hardened countenances that stared back at him. They were still a few marines short of replacing the casualties sustained in the Battle of Kurtzenheim and the transfers that had taken place as a result of JAF high command's efforts to spread experienced personnel amongst the three Divisions.

Their new platoon commander had arrived. Another youngster who had just graduated from OTS and had yet to prove himself to anyone. As soon as Ron was sure the troopers were properly formed up, he wheeled to face the man who stood waiting.

Warrant Officer Sean Yeo could have been considered a midget by Marine standards. Short, scrawny but spry, the young officer radiated confidence without arrogance. Under normal circumstances (ie peacetime), Ron might have actually have like the man. But his experience during the 'peacekeeping' mission on Mars had changed the way he viewed these young officers on probation.

The officer stood before them now, surveying their faces, trying to commit them to memory. Then, clearing his throat softly, he finally said, "At ease, Marines." Even though it had not been delivered as an orders, the troopers shifted to parade rest in precise unison.

"Good afternoon, people."

"Good afternoon, _sir_!" The platoon replied in a booming chorus.

Sean seemed heartened by the enthusiastic response. "I am Officer Sean Yeo and I'll be your new platoon commander," he said by way of introduction. "The Sarn't Major here tells me that the majority of you have seen combat on Mars. Well, I'm fresh out of OTS so I'm not under any illusions here. I'm maybe be the boss, but I do plan on learning a thing or two from each and every one of you."

There were no overt responses from the assembled troops since they were at parade rest. But Ron could sense the approval in his people. Even he couldn't shake the feeling now. Warrant Officer Sean Yeo was going to be a very different officer from the man he was sent to replace.

But of course, Master Sergeant Ron Foo had been in the business long enough to know that first impressions seldom counted.

**1200 HOURS – ****02 MARCH, 2214******

It had not taken him long to find the dock where his new command had been moored. Try as he might, General Koudriopoulos had not allowed him the opportunity to report aboard that new ship first thing in the morning.

Of course, Captain Andy Ho knew that he was being unreasonable to expect such a privilege since certain protocols had to be followed when a captain arrived aboard his ship for the first time. Preparing for such formalities took time and the JAF took its tradition rather seriously.

So he had wandered around until the appropriate time, staring out viewing galleries that gave him splendid views of warships in dock both within and outside Khannan, shuttle craft arriving and departing in steady streams and exo/fighter squadrons putting their various machines through the paces.

He had arrived at the dock exactly at noon, the time stipulated in his orders for him to take command. The two members of the ship's crew who were stationed at the boarding tube were obviously expecting him and after checking his ID and offering to take care of his baggage, had allowed him to proceed up the tube and into the hull of his new command.

Climbing up that transparent passageway, he had an almost unobstructed view of his new home. There was the wedge-shaped forward hull where the Command Section, weapons mounts and hangar/launch bays were located, followed by the centrifuge that house the habitat ring. Located just behind was the Ops Section, looking like dual, thick doughnuts connected to each other. It was here where the ship's specialist functions, such as the workshops and intelligence centre were located. Coming right after the Op Section was the massive Drive Section, characterized by four long, identical, heat-dissipation fins that encased the five thurst nozzles for the plasma conversion chamber drives.

To the uninitiated, the JSS _Fantasia_ possessed the standard look of most JAF warships. She even looked like the average _Forge_-class patrol carrier to the casual JAF observer. But Captain Andy Ho was neither.

He had spent a significant amount of his career flying _Ranger_, _Archer _and _Lancer_ interceptors off _Forges_ before subsequently rising to command the _Falchion_ before it was crippled in Martian orbit. He _knew_ a _Forge _inside out. He _knew_ where each and every one of her curves and lines belonged. The _Fantasia_ had a longer flight bay that boasted slightly longer runways, more spacious hangars and a dedicated repair bay located below the hangar deck. There was also increased armor protection allocated to sections of the ship that had either long ago been identified as weak spots to discovered to be vulnerable during the cataclysmic Battle of Kurtzenheim.

Ship Upgrade Kits were now being made available and the ships that were presently in dock for repairs were also being refitted with the new armor to bring overall protection to new standards. Ships currently on deployment would still have to wait for their turn in the yards but _Fantasia_ would need none of that. She was the first of the patrol carriers to be built up to the JAF's new requirements and she would be _the_ new benchmarks for which all other _Forges_ would be compared against.

And she was _his_.

He smiled at the ship's name that was emblazoned in bold letters on her bow. Her hull appeared to be spotlessly clean and smooth, untouched by the harsh vacuum of space. That would change soon, he thought with another smile. He felt a electric thrill once more at the prospect of sailing the inky void between the planets and the other bastions of humanity, commanding several thousand tons of starship.

"Ship's Company . . . atten-_shun_!" A loud voice bellowed as he approached the portal that would lead him into the ship proper. There was the distinct sound of people shifting from parade rest to attention. A moment later, he stepped through the portal and got his first look at the interior of his new ship.

"Captain arri-_ving_!"

He could barely contain his excitement as the ringing of bells was piped through the overhead speakers. The sound was pre-recorded, of course, since it was impractical to place a bronze bell aboard a modern starship.

_Ding-ding, ding-ding_. Four bells, the traditional welcome for a ship's commander of an officer of Captain rank. As soon as he set foot onto the _Fantasia_, a bosun began to play an intricate pipe call while the Ship's Chief, the senior non-commissioned officer aboard, call for the assembled personnel to keep still.

A serious-looking, apple-cheeked lieutenant with short, raven-black hair met him halfway between the entrance and the assemblage of personnel. She came to a stop before he did, her hand rising in a stiff and correct salute.

Captain Ho stopped when he was an arm's distance from her and noted absently that he towered over her. Then he brought his own hand up. "Permission to come aboard, lieutenant?"

"Granted, sir." The women replied and both brought theirs hands down one after the other. "I am Lieutenant Kallie Chang, your Executive Officer, temporarily in command of the JSS _Fantasia_. I'm ready to be relieved, sir."

"Very well, Lieutenant Chang." Andy nodded formally and almost gravely. "I relieve you."

"I stand relieved, Captain." The XO of the _Fantasia_ seemed to hesitate for the fraction of a second before stepping back and saluting him one more. "The ship is yours, sir."

"Thank you, lieutenant. I have the ship."

"Ship's Company, at ease!" The Chief bellowed once more and the waiting crew reverted o parade rest posture.

"Sir, with your permission, I'd like to introduce you to the officers aboard." Lieutenant Chang fixed him with an inquiring look.

"What's the present staffing level aboard?"

"We still don't have the exo/fighter squadron or the marine detachment aboard. As for the crew, we've got seventeen officers out of the required twenty-two and ninety-eight enlisted out of a required hundred and twenty aboard."

Ho nodded and looked to the gathered crew. It was just a fraction of those who were aboard, which itself was a fraction of what he eventually would have to command. A small knot of officers were standing in front of the enlisted personnel, waiting eagerly to be introduced to their new captain.

Most of the faces were unfamiliar, many of them young. More names for him to learn and remember. He thought back to the _Falchion_ and thought he saw some familiar faces before him. But he knew it was just an illusion in a large part. The only thing similar between the crews of the two ships was the fact that they were all young.

And now that the nation was at war, he knew some of those faces would stay young forever, never to get the opportunity to age.


	9. Episode 8: Permission To Come Aboard

**Fresh Beginnings #2**

**Episode 8: Permission to Come Aboard**

_Leadership is action, not position.___

- Donald H. McGannon -

**0945 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

She was almost ready to sail. In the month that had elapsed since he assumed command, work on the _Fantasia_ had gone on around the clock. Most of the major construction work had already been completed even before Captain Andy Ho had set foot aboard her and the bulk of the remaining work had been the seemingly endless diagnostics and checks that had to be run on all the newly installed systems.

Still, there was no true substitute for actual space trials, which was why the crew were busy readying the ship for its foray into space. He had been given two months to prepare, but he was not content with that. Instead, he had halved the time, driven his crew to its limits and now they had earned the right to begin _Fantasia_ maiden voyage. As soon as all the required supplies and her full crew complement were aboard, she would head out into space.

Captain Andy Ho was looking at the marines who had been drawn up in formation before him now, standing in neat rows on the docking platform where his new command was moored. There were thirty of them in all, a blend of faces that varied from grizzled stoicism to cherubic eagerness.

The detachment commander, one Warrant Officer Sean Yeo, fell into the latter category, the man looking about the same age as his own son who was still schooling. Fresh out of officer training, this one was a career officer – a man who had been selected to be an officer from the start without having to serve through the ranks first. If all went well, this marine would be able to earn his commission to lieutenant sometime within the next four to five years.

It was times like these that Captain Andy Ho found the JAF rank structure to be somewhat bizarre. While enlisted men had to work their way from Private all the way to Master Sergeant and then getting a shot at Warrant Officer, men and women who were earmarked for an officer's career during basic military training were accorded that same rank upon their completion of their cadet course at Officer Training School. Confusing matters even further was the fact that the next higher rank for enlisted Warrant Officers was Chief Warrant Officer which represented the pinnacle in an non-commissioned officer's career. However, WOs in an officer career, as well as certain outstanding enlisted Warrant Officers would receive a commission as their next phase of advancement, pushing them to lieutenant which was the most junior of the commissioned officer ranks.

Thus, WOs in the JAF were either highly experienced enlisted soldiers turned NCOs, or very young and green cadet graduates out on probation and waiting for a commission. The only difference was in the color of the rank tabs. Warrant Officers (Enlisted) wore silver tabs whiles Warrant Officers (Officer) wore golden tabs. Despite the subtle difference, there had always been a certain degree of discomfort and tension between the two 'castes' of Warrant Officers.

Normally, a WO(E) would be addressed as Warrant 'So-and-so' or 'Mister/Ma'am' while a WO(O) was addressed as 'Sir/Ma'am' or Officer 'So-and-so'.

"Sir! Marine Detachment _Fantasia_, reporting for duty!" Officer Yeo said crisply as he came up to the captain and saluted. Captain Ho returned the salute smartly, amazed to see that Sean looked even younger up close. And he was short, for a marine.

"Glad to have you with us, Officer Yeo." Ho allowed himself a smile as he lowered his hand. "I'm sorry my XO couldn't be here to meet you. She is somewhat tied up at the moment."

"Sean seemed slightly taken aback by the captain's politeness. "Sir, I'm honored to have you come meet us in person. Please, allow me to introduce my Sergeant Major, Master Sergeant Ron Foo."

"Sir!" The dark, muscular marine came to rigid attention and ripped off a parade-perfect salute.

"Well, it's good to see you all at any rate." Ho nodded in acknowledgement. "We'll be heading out for trials in a couple of days so I'd like you to get settled in as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir. You can count on it, sir." Sean nodded eagerly. "We've brought as much of our kit on our backs and I'm told that whatever we couldn't carry should be arriving sometime this afternoon."

"That's good to hear." Ho stepped aside to reveal one of his own officers standing behind. "This is Officer Jeremy Kiew, my quartermaster. He will oversee the transfer of your exo suits and stores as well as the accommodations for your troops. I suggest you tie down whatever you need to with him."

"Thank you, sir. Most kind of you." Sean replied stiffly. "We'll get moving right away. With your permission, sir?"

"Very well, Officer." The captain was about to turn but stopped himself just short. "I'd like to introduce you to the rest of my officers later today if that's alright with you. Say, 1500 in the officer's mess?"

Sean knew that warship captains, by nature, did not make suggestions and so he nodded vigorously. "I'll be there, sir." And the his hand came up again.

"Carry on." Ho waved before he turned around and stepped back into the tube that led into his ship. Behind, he could heard the young marine commander and his Sergeant Major barking out instructions to their charges.

**0958 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Lieutenant Chang." Lieutenant Adelene Chan said as they climbed through the hatch that led 'up' into the cavernous flight bay. The Olympian Thunderbolts had been assigned to the _Fantasia_ for little less than a week and she was still finding her feet as a commander of a squadron now based aboard a carrier.

"Look, Ade . . . can I call you that?" Chang waited until the squadron leader nodded before continuing. "Those tabs of yours may be brand new. But they're still the same as mine. At least for now. So you can call me Kallie."

"Ok . . . Kallie." Adelene said somewhat hesitantly. Kallie was after all the second most powerful member of the _Fantasia_'s crew. Even though _Fantasia_ was tied up to a dock, they were still in microgravity so they floated easily into the hangar bay, which was empty for now. A modern spaceship was built pretty much like a skyscraper, unlike their seagoing counterparts. Thus, the forward part of the ship was normally 'up' while the stern normally housed the 'bottom' or 'basement' while a ship was under acceleration. Moveable fixtures allowed rooms to be reconfigured should the arrangement of 'up' and 'down' be changed during a cruise. "I'm really new to all this," Adelene admitted.

"That makes two of us then." Kallie replied as she sealed the hatch behind them and stood at the 'bottom' of the hangar deck, held firmly in place by magnetic boots. "My last assignment was with the JSS _Ithaca_ and the only carrier I've ever served on was the _Valiant_, unless you count the old _Courageous _as a carrier."

"I see." Adelene replied as she gawked at the grand expanse of the hangar deck. It may have been empty at the moment but it would soon change when they started to slot in fighters and exo-armors. It wouldn't be long before she'd be complaining about the lack of space. "I was aboard the _Valiant _too. During Kurtzenheim."

"Head she took some nasty hits in that battle." Kallie shot the younger woman an inquiring look.

"That she did. But she managed to hold together. Somehow." Adelene felt the memories of the _Valiant_'s most recent combat flooding back to her now even after so many months. She could see the damage in her mind's eye, the carnage that had resulted for that great clash in the skies over the Red Planet. She sighed nostalgically at the memory. "She's a damn fine ship."

"So is the _Fantasia_." He words were cold when they left the XO's mouth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

Kallie's features softened. "Nah, it's ok. Just remember that the _Fantasia_ is your home now. And Captain Ho takes crew loyalty very seriously." Without waiting for the younger woman to reply, the _Fantasia_'s XO disengaged her magnetic boots and began to move up the hangar bay, 'swimming' up towards the hatch that would lead them to the launch deck. Adelene disengaged her own boots and leapt after the XO.

It took almost half a minute to cross the expanse of the hangar. By the time Adelene had completed her journey, Lieutenant Chang was already waiting by the open hatchway. They were about to go through when Adelene's personal communicator chimed.

"Lieutenant Chan," she said as she accepted the call just short of the hatchway.

"Ma'am, it's James." The youngish voice on the other end said. "I just wanted to check . . . about the ATMPs for our _Lancers_. How many _Lightning _pods was it again?"

"Two, James." Adelene sighed in mild annoyance. "Two."

"Oh."

"What's wrong, Mister Wong?" There was a guarded note of suspicion in Adelene's voice now.

"Um, looks like the Log people might have made a mistake."

Adelene rolled her eyes and made a frustrated sound. "Well, go get it sorted out then!"

"Uh, yes, ma'am. Right away ma'am." And the connection went dead.

She was the XO watching her patiently. Adelene shrugged and tried to smile. "Never though it'd be this much work."

"It'll get better once we get out into space." Lieutenant Chang said knowingly. "Less nonsense to deal with once we get out there."

"I guess so. Well, I certainly hope . . ." The personal communicator sounded once again and she fumbled for the answer button before thumbing it savagely. "Yes?"

"Lieutenant. This is Officer Kok."

"And what is it this time, Officer?" Adelene sighed, pressing her forehead as if she were nursing a bad headache. "More bad news?"

"Uh, no, ma'am. I was over at Comms. There's a shuttle on the way over from Joshua's Station carrying more pilots for the squadron. ETA is 1100 hours."

That got Adelene's attention. So someone had finally remembered the Thunderbolts and the rest of her squadron's missing complement was finally on its way. "Alright, noted." And the squadron commander disconnected the call without waiting for a reply. She was about to apologize to Kallie when the chime sounded yet again.

"Who the hell is this?" Adelene snapped into transceiver, her patience with the persistent calls finally and utterly spent.

"It's James again, ma'am . . ." The voice replied shakily. "Uh, about the _Pilum_ ATMPs . . . how many . . ."

"You are so _dead_, mister! Just you wait till I get there!" Adelene killed the connection and looked over apologetically at the carrier's XO. "Damn it, why can't they do _anything _right?" She shook her head in exasperation and saw that Kallie was still waiting patiently to bring her to the launch decks. "I'm sorry, Kallie. Could we do this another time?"

"I think our Deck Commander should be arriving later today. You can liaise with her then." Chang replied with a nod.

"Thanks." And then Lieutenant Adelene Chan was 'swimming' back the way she had just come.

**1034 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

Lieutenant Alvin Ng tried to relax in the passenger seat of the shuttle. The trip from Joshua's Station to Khannan Base was not a particularly long one – about two hours by shuttle. And he had been trying fruitlessly to sleep for the last ninety minutes.

As an exo pilot, he absolutely hated being a passenger, despising the fact that he could not be in control. All his adult life, he had enjoyed being at the helm. First as a pilot of his own exo, then as a flight leader and then as the skipper of his own squadron. But much of that had changed after Kurtzenheim.

Though largely acquitted at his court martial, the JAF, a purely volunteer organization with no shortage or qualified candidates, was not known for giving its failures and washouts a second chance.

And so he had not been expecting this new assignment when it came through. Immediately after the court martial, he had been transferred to the Exo Replacement Department where he had the dreary task of collating the consolidated damage reports from each squadron in Gamma Division that had fought at the Battle of Kurtzenheim.

He then had to assign each squadron a priority rating for equipment replacement, developing a plan for re-equipment and upgrading of the JAF's numerous exo-armor units, subject of course to the approval of his boss.

He had spent much time at the Jovian Armor Works Headquarters on Joshua's Station where he had frequent contact with the bureaucrats and accountants from the Confederations primary builder of exo armors. It had been a maddening experience for a former warrior and it didn't helpd that his work did allow him to get close to the cutting edge JAW designs without the hope of ever flying one. In fact, he had not flown an exo since the time he had been shot down during at Kurtzenheim.

Commander Metcalf, his direct superior, was a logistics officer who had never flown an exo before and thus did not appreciate the inputs of a combat veteran – particularly one who had apparently screwed up and cost the Confederation a squadron's worth of those precious machines that he was tasked with replacing.

For slight more than a month, Alvin had languished at that post, resigned to his fate of trying to convince his boss of the merits of each exo armor design while the man was more interested in simply filling up the gaps with whatever was available 'now and cheap'.

If there was ever a dead-end posts for combat exo pilots in the JAF, he had found it. On numerous occasions, he had considered resigning his commission and returning to civilian life. He had done his share of fighting and with the influx of new recruits flowing in after the declaration of war, the JAF wouldn't be missing one former squadron commander. In fact, he had already drafted the letter and had been ready to submit it when fresh posting orders were cut for him.

Contained in those orders was the most pleasant and unexpected of surprises. In effect, he had been ordered to leave his post on Joshua's Station and head out to Khannan Base, the primary military base in Olympus and home to Gamma Division. He had packed his bags as quickly as he could and requested for permission to leave immediately upon the receipt of his orders. His superior, who had no love for him, was just as glad to be rid of him as Alvin was glad to go.

It had taken some time to find transport to Joshua's Station though some good connections that he had maintained through his years in service managed to get him on a shuttle bound for his destination.

As the shuttle continued to hurtles towards Khannan, Alvin noted that the only other passengers, two privates wearing the golden wings insignia of interceptor pilots, were still chatting. They had been going on incessantly about their new assignment even before boarding and launch. They were speaking with the enthusiasm of new pilots bound for their first ship assignment.

He had not bothered to acknowledge their presence, preferring to be alone with his thoughts as he made transit to Khannan. Ever since his widely-publicized court martial had turned him into something of a celebrity (albeit a notorious one), he had strove to minimize whatever contact he had with strangers. It just didn't pay to socialize anymore when all everybody seemed to want to do was share their opinion on Kurtzenheim, offer their condolences for the demise of the Deathwings or deliver their own condemnation for his actions during the battle.

The Olympian Thunderbolts . . . They were a new squadron. Formed in the aftermath of Kurtzenheim and in response to the outbreak of war with the CEGA. The Jovian Confederation and Central Earth Government and Administration had been involved in an arms race since the Battle of Elysée and Kurtzenheim had simply given the Confederation's war industry even greater impetus that before. New ships were coming out of the yards every month by the dozen, exos were being constructed by the hundreds while training facilities churned out fresh personnel by the thousands.

The only good thing about a new squadron was the fact that it had no reputation to maintain. Of course, that meant that one had to be built. And that was always something easier done in peacetime than in the crucible of war.

"What do you think our new CO's going to be like?" The fairer of the two enlisted pilots sitting in front of him was asking her companion, a diminutive woman with the complexion of dark honey.

"Let's hoe he or she is _nothing_ like Lieutenant Ishigawa." He couldn't see the look on their faces but Alvin could sense the distaste in the way that name was mentioned.

"Yeah, that man was such an idiot!" The fair, pony-tailed pilot nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, he was just biased against us enlisted pilots." The other pilot was saying. "I'm sick and tired of being treated like a second-class pilots just because I don't have a commission! Let's hope our new skipper isn't some stupid jerk with delusions of grandeur."

"Well, I don't think the JAF makes officers any worse than Ishigawa."

"For our sakes, I hope not." The darker woman sighed. "Let's keep our fingers crossed and pray he or she isn't some psychotic glory-seeker either."

"Alvin smiled at that last comment. _Well_, _that does remain to be seen_, _doesn't it_? There was a time when he would have probably made the same comment about one or two of his superiors. Of course, that had been back in the days when he was still a green private. He would have loved to have thought that he had matured since then. He continued to listen to the two privates swapping their gossip and he was really amused by some of the things they had to say. A part of him felt sorry for them. If only they knew who it was sitting two rows behind them.

**1059 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

Lieutenant Adelene Chan checked her wristwatch for what seemed to be the twentieth time in five minutes. She had just come back up from the docking platform after giving Officer James Wong hell for screwing up the acquisition and loading of the ATMPs for the _Lancers_. That had done little to improve her mood before she went back aboard the ship and headed for the shuttle bay.

She had already summoned Warrant Officer Winnie Kok to the shuttle bay at the last minute since she felt the woman would best amount to her XO for now. The younger woman had tried to protest but Adelene was having none of that.

So far, the junior officer hadn't showed. She tapped her foot impatiently as she stared at her watch again. She knew that the notification had been pretty last minute but Adelene still believed that her subordinates ought to develop a real sense of urgency. After all, weren't officers supposed to set examples for the enlisted personnel to follow?

That young officer had arrived less than a week ago and already the two had not got along as well as they should. To Adelene, Winnie was just another exo pilot. One of the JAF's pampered. And she despised most exo pilots. A _Lancer_, with it's quick-change Advanced Tactical Mission Pod could easily achieve a host of missions that would require several purpose-built exos to achieve. It had always annoyed her. Fighter pilots were supposed to get the glory. It had been that way for centuries, since the dawn of aerial warfare.

That Winnie Kok was good at her job despite her inexperience was immaterial. In fact, it probably made it worse. She was still prone to making the kind of mistakes that junior officers would and Adelene wasted little time in pointing those out.

Placing her in temporary command of the exo element of the squadron because she was the ranking officer had been done out of necessity. Adelene was certainly hoping for someone more experienced with a little more seniority and competency to handle the exo armor haf of the squadron.

She heard the hatch behind her opening and she turned to see Warrant Officer (O) Winnie Kok coming through the hatchway, clad in grease-stained overalls. Adelene took a step back, making a face as the tall officer drew herself to full height before the Thunderbolts' CO. Where Adelene was compact and confrontational, Winnie was gangling and pensive.

Winnie was almost too tall to fit into the cockpit of the _Pathfinder_ ST that she flew. In the few simulated battles that they had flown so far, she had proven herself to be an able pilot but only a mediocre combat leader. In Adelene's own opinion, the other exo pilots weren't very exceptional either. The quality of leadership amongst them was nothing to shout about and the same could be said for their teamwork and flying abilities.

Of course, the fighter pilots weren't all that better though she was confident in her own ability to mold them into a deadly fighting team in the days to come.

"What the hell are you wearing, Winnie?"

"Ma'am?" Winnie looked puzzled, unsure as to what her commander was asking. "It's my work suit, ma'am."

"I know what it is, damn it! Why the heck are you wearing it? We're supposed to be greeting the rest of the squadron." Adelene shook her head. "Why aren't you in uniform? What kind of impression do you think you're gonna give the new arrivals?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I was in the launch bay when you called. I didn't think . . ."

"That's right! You didn't _think_." Adelene interjected. "What were you doing there anyway?"

"Winnie looked at her dirty overalls and bit her lip. "The rail calibration unit on my _Pathfinder_ ST was giving me some trouble so . . ."

"That is a job for the enlisted deckhands, not officers like yourself." Adelene said coldly, cutting Winnie off, unimpressed by the effort that her subordinate was putting into readying her machine for action.

"But ma'am . . . "

"The rank tabs on your collar stand for something, Officer." Adelene went on as if Winnie hadn't spoken. The only other person in the shuttle bay was Officer Joshua Wong, the ship's Damage Control Officer, who was waiting to receive the new arrivals on behalf of the ship's company. He was shifting uncomfortably within earshot, suddenly interested in his magnetic boots.

"I understand that. But . . ."

"No 'buts', Winnie. If you have trouble keeping your distance and being an officer, perhaps you'd like to go back to being in the ranks?"

Winnie paled slightly at that veiled threat and swallowed. "Lieutenant Chan, I did now . . ."

"Now hear this. Now hear this. Standby to receive shuttle." The overhead speakers sounded. "That is, standby to receive shuttle."

"We shall discuss your . . . attire and duties as an officer later." Adelene said as she looked out the entrance to the bay. Since the _Fantasia_ was in a pressurized dock, there had been no need for them to suit up for the shuttle's arrival.

She heard the rumble of engines and then the tired-looking wedge that was the shuttle appeared before them, rising through the bay opening. For a moment, the utility craft seemed to hover, then with a touch of thrusters, it rose up into the gaping maw in the _Fantasia_'s hull, magnetic catches and clamps securing it in place before the pilot cut the power to the engines.

Adelene noted that Officer Wong had covered his ears at the clamorous roar of the engines before they died down. The man looked really green and she was convinced that this was his first deployment.

As soon as the engines were fully powered down, Warrant Officer (O) Joshua Wong stepped up to the shuttle, trying not to look too nervous. There was a grating sound as the access ramp began to lower itself and the _Fantasia_'s Damage Control Officer made a show of adjusting his uniform before standing at parade rest, waiting for the passengers to disembark.

**1105 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

The two privates had disembarked before him. Normally, that would have been considered a breach of protocol since etiquette called for the most senior passenger to be the last to board and the first to leave any craft.

But Alvin had forgone that privilege today, taking the extra time to make sure his gear was in order before taking the steps down the ramp that led into the interior of the _Fantasia_'s shuttle bay, some three minutes after the two women had disembarked before him – which might have explained why the young officer at the bottom of the ramp had not looked like he was expecting him and had in fact been turning away from the ramp.

The young man took one look at Alvin's rank tabs and service ribbons and did a double-take, snapping to rigid attention before his hand came up in a vigorous, cadet-style salute. "Good morning, _sir_!"

_Might as well make a good first impression now _. . . Alvin sighed inwardly. "Morning, Officer." Alvin nodded curtly as he came to attention and placed his duffel bag on the ramp. Only then did he returned the junior officer's salute with sharp precision. "Permission to come aboard?"

The man looked almost ready to burst as he nodded his head jerkily and replied almost breathlessly. "Permission granted, sir! Welcome aboard the JSS _Fantasia_."

"Glad to be aboard." The exo pilot replied in his flat monotone. He then turned to the national emblem pained against the bulkhead in front of him. Below it was the crest of the JSS _Fantasia_. Lieutenant Ng made a show of saluting the national colors before looking back at the man who had welcomed him. "And thank you, Officer . . ."

"Wong. Joshua Wong," came the halting, excited reply. "I'm the DCO. Um, that stands for Damage Control . . . "

"Yes, I am quite aware what a DCO is, Officer." Alvin cut the younger man off with a stern look, secretly enjoying making the newbie officer sweat.

"My apologies, sir." The DCO said desperately. "You must be one of the exo pilots here to . . ."

"Right." Alvin answered disinterestedly. Then he spared a look back into the cavernous interior of the shuttle before looking back to the junior officer once more. "I'm the last one off. You may return to your duties, Mister Wong."

"Ah, sir. Um. Yes, sir!" The younger man looked almost deflated but he puffed himself up again to snap off another salute which Alvin returned with matching crispness. Then the DCO excused himself, suddenly remember that he had to be somewhere else in a hurry.

Alvin could see that the two pint-sized privates were already reporting to an equally petite lieutenant who was accompanied by willowy woman in heavily stained overalls. He knew he ought to go over and join them but he decided to take his time since they weren't calling for him yet. He decided that he could afford to take his time.

He was back on a carrier again. Even though he had thought his career ended. He had been given a second chance and standing there in the shuttle bay, he felt born again. He was aboard the only place where he had ever felt truly alive and he took in the sights, the smells and the sounds of a Jovian carrier and savored them.

He felt at home.

**1107 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

"Your friend there having a problem?" Adelene asked the two privates who stood before here. The newcomers spared a glance over their shoulders, exchanged puzzled looks and shrugged.

The fairer of the two new arrivals replied. "I don't know, ma'am. He's not with us. At least, as far as I know, he's not."

"I see." Adelene stared at the man who stood at the bottom of the shuttle ramp, admiring the view around him. She felt the beginnings of an ugly scowl as she closed the gap between them. _I'll sort him out_ . . . She had requested for more officers to make up her squadron complement and one had been sent though he apparently seemed awe-struck by the idea of being aboard a carrier. That would soon have to change.

"Bloody exo pilots . . ." She muttered under her breath as she stormed over. The two female privates who had just reported to her were interceptor pilots so this man had to be one of the exo jocks.

As the CO of the Olympian Thunderbolts, she had to ensure that the officers would set a good example for the others to follow. As she crossed the shuttle bay towards him, she secretly wondered what she had done wrong to be saddled which such lackluster personnel.

"Lieutenant." She spat, noting the insignia denoting his status as an exo armor pilot. She felt a skyrocketing dislike for the man who turned to look over at her. There was a slightly bemused expression on his face and she responded immediately by fixing him with on her sternest glares. Standing with arms akimbo before him, she growled, "Anything I can help you with, Lieutenant?"

"As a matter of fact, no. I think I can find my way around this tub." The pilot officer smiled pleasantly and she felt a wave of heat passing through her. What kind of insane stunt was this idiot trying to pull?

"Well, _I _am waiting, Lieutenant," she told him bluntly and coldly. The newly-arrived lieutenant had already begun to life his bag when he stopped and stared back at her with puzzlement. Then he set the bag down and came to attention once more, saluting.

"Permission to come aboard?" He said briskly with a quizzical look on his face.

The frown lines on her face deepened. _What in the world is this moron up to_? It took every last ounce of self-control in her being to keep her voice level so that she could still speak. "You've already been granted permission by Officer Wong. I was wondering when you'd report to _me_."

The man squinted at her. The frown was more puzzled than annoyed. It was then that she began to notice the decorations and service ribbons that adorned his chest. He was one hell of a veteran pilot if those were anything to go by and the lines on his hardened face and the keen look in his eyes spoke of genuine combat experience. Still, she wasn't going to let his extensive decorations or experience be any excuse for lack of discipline and decorum.

"Do you have any idea _who_ I am, lieutenant?"

"Again, as a matter of fact, no." The smile had faded as he studied her face in an attempt to make some form of recollection. "Should I know you from somewhere?"

"I'm your squadron leader. We may be of equivalent rank, but I think I should still be accorded the respect that comes with my post, don't you think?" Part of her was really wondering if he was being serious or simply making her the butt of some elaborate joke.

"You're Lieutenant Adelene Chan?"

"That's right." She tried to glower at him but it didn't help that he stood a good head taller than her. "About time you figured that out."

He eyed her skeptically, then undid the topmost fastener on his uniform jacket, reaching inside and fishing out a sheaf of thin plastic data sheets. "Then I believe I am here to relieve you."

Despite her apparently supreme effort, Adelene still felt her eyes go wide in shock. She suddenly felt breathless, as if she had just been sucker-punched in the gut. "Is this . . . some kind of . . . joke?" She gasped as she took the data sheets from him.

"You mean you didn't know?" There was no malice or smugness in the man's tone, only mild impatience. "I mean, it was pretty short notice for me but I though they would have told you . . . They didn't?" He bit his lip awkwardly when he caught the look on her face.

She shook her head mutely. She had not expected this at all. For a month, she had tried to bring the Thunderbolts together as a squadron and had done a pretty good job at it and now she was being _relieved_ of command. By a man of _equivalent _rank. _This is a bad dream _. . . But she had to look at the sheets that were grasped firmly in hand.

The letter was addressed to a Lieutenant Alvin Ng and she skimmed the contents. It was true. This man had indeed come to replace her, the order taking effect the very moment he set foor aboard the JSS _Fantasia_.

Adelene felt herself going weak in the legs as she stared at that damning piece of information in her hands. So it had all been too good to be true, too good to last. She felt the urge to scream and just lash out at someone. And the name Alvin Ng had a nagging, familiar ring to it. _Wasn't he the . . . yes_, she had recognized him from all the news coverage in the aftermath of Kurztenheim. The shock and disappointment inside her gave way to a rage that boiled inside her, igniting into a white-hot, searing flame.

"You . . ."

"Captain on deck!" Winnie shouted, interrupting them before Adelen could utter a single word in anger. They all turned to see Captain Andy Ho stepping through the airlock that led into the shuttle bay and their hands came up in salute.

"At ease, people. At ease."_ Fantasia_'s skipper waved at them airily and surveyed the scene before stepping up to the newly arrived officer. "Alvin Ng?"

"Yes, sir. I am indeed." The incoming squadron commander said stiffly without even showing any traces of a smile despite the captain's own warm smile.

"Welcome aboard the JSS _Fantasia_." They shook hands.

"Glad to be here, sir." Despite the lieutenant's impassive face, one could tell that he was sincere.

Captain Ho turned to Adelene who was clearly having a hard time disguising her emotions. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, Ade. I received news of Lieutenant Ng's transfer only a few minutes ago and I came down as soon as I heard that he was aboard."

"That's fine, sir," she lied, struggling to remain standing even in the microgravity of the shuttle bay. "I take it that this means I'm being posted out?"

"No, lieutenant." There was a slightly stiff quality to Alvin's tone as he spoke. "On the contrary, you will remain here as my XO, commanding the fighter flights."

Adelene felt ready to kill someone. This man had not only come to take away the command that had been hers. He had inherited what she had been building up and would have her endure the mortification of having to serve as his Executive Officer. Just how much was she expected to take?

"I see . . ." she managed. It was a very bitter pill to swallow. She gave the data sheets in her hands one last look before handing them back to the man who had come to replace her.

"Lieutenant Ng, your reputation as an exo pilot has preceded you." The Captain said, providing a useful diversion so Adelene could regain her composure and find her breath.

"Not as well as my notoriety as a squadron commander, I'm afraid." He shot Adelene a glance as he spoke. "It appears that I'm remembered more for my perceived mistakes than any of my past achievements."

"Be that as it may, lieutenant, you are on my ship now. It's a new ship, with a new crew. You should have the opportunity for a fresh start here aboard the _Fantasia_." Ho pointed out. "And you can count on us to help you along should you require any assistance. Isn't that right, Ade?"

"Yes, sir," she answered reluctantly, pushing the limits of insubordination.

"Well, I believe the two of you will have some matters to discuss. I'm pleased to have a pilot of your stature aboard though." Captain Ho said to Alvin as they shook hands again. Then he was stepping back towards the hatchway that led deeper into his ship. He stopped and turned just short of the hatchway. "Oh, and lieutenant, I'd like you to meet the rest of my officers in the mess at about 1500 hours. Think that's ok with you?"

"Certainly, sir." Still there was no smile, no hint of emotion on the younger man's face. "I would be pleased to."

"Excellent. Lieutenant Chan, I hope you can be there too. In the meantime, please do see to it that Lieutenant Ng feels at home." Ho spared her a look that she almost recognized as pity and she felt her anger flaring white-hot once more. Then the gangly carrier captain was gone.

As soon as the captain had departed, Officer Kok had come up with the two privates in tow, wearing a slightly puzzled expression on her face. "What do you want me to do now, ma'am?"

"Don't ask me, Winnie." Adelene scowled at the officer but found she couldn't quite hold it. Sighing, she let her shoulders sag and gestured to Alvin. "_He_ is your squadron commander now."

Winnie looked at Adelene and then to Alvin and back to Adelene once more, not quite understanding what she was hearing. Alvin helped by clearing his throat and coming to attention, reading off the orders which he held in hand. "JAF Posting Directive 1303-2214-008 dated 29th March, 2214. To: Lieutenant Alvin Ng, Project Supervisor, Exo Replacement Department."

He looked up and noted that Winnie and the two privates were already standing at attention though Adelene was still hunched over in a poor approximation of the posture held by the others.

"One. You are hereby direct to proceed to the JSS _Fantasia_, currently docked at Khannan Base, where you are to assume command of the exo/fighter squadron, the Olympian Thunderbolts. Two. Your posting as Commanding Officer, Olympian Thunderbolts, will be considered effective immediately upon your arrival. Three. You are required to relieve the provisional squadron leader, Lieutenant Adelene Chan upon your arrival, after which she will serve as your Executive Officer. Four. You are directed to make every effort to prepare the squadron for wartime operations failing this only at your peril. Signed, Colonel Keith Taliaferro, Commander GamDiv Exo/Fighter Forces, for General Koudriopoulos, Commander, Gamma Division."

The silence in the shuttle bay was palpable and the shocked looks on the four women's faces greeted him. For Adelene, the fact that the posting directive had referred to her as the 'provisional squadron leader' had only made her feel worse. So they had planned to replace her all along. It had been too good to be true – her assignment as commander of the Thunderbolts had been a stopgap measure until someone else could be found. She felt as though she had just been stabbed in the back with the blade twisted in.

"Ma'am, I relieve you." There was no malevolence in his words as he addressed her. Regardless of the outgoing commander's rank or status, he or she was always considered superior to the incoming commander, at least on the day of the changeover of command.

"I stand relieved." Adelene looked over at Winnie. "May I present my . . . _provisional_ Executive Officer."

The wispy warrant officer seemed to panicked. Clearly she had not prepared to meet her future squadron commander. From the look of the overalls she wore, that was certainly more than likely to be the case. "Officer Winnie Kok, at your service, sir."

"You are the squadron leader?" The private with the ponytail blurted out.

"You have a problem with that, Private . . .?"

"Uh, no, sir. None at all, sir. Uh . . . Private Candice Yap, sir. At your service." She exchanged a hesitant look with her buddy.

"I see. And your friend?" He directed his gaze over to the darker of the two.

"Private Adora Cheong, sir!"

"Well," Alvin fixed the two privates with a critical eye. "As to whether I'm a stupid jerk with delusions of grandeur, or a psychotic glory-seeker, I think you will be finding out in the days to come."

Candice's face flushed red with embarrassment while Adora seemed to blanch with undisguised terror as they both realized that every word they had uttered aboard the shuttle had been heard by him.

"Sir, we . . ." Adora began, sputtering like a fish out of water. "We . . ."

"No apologies are necessary." Alvin waved her off. "Though I'd be a bit more careful when airing my comments and opinions next time."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"That goes for you too." His gaze was redirected at Candice.

"Understood, sir!" She answered as she snapped to even more rigid attention.

"Lieutenant Chan will be Executive Officer now, Officer Kok. Henceforth, you are relieved."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Winnie replied sharply and sincerely, looking genuinely relieved.

"Lieutenant Chan?"

"Sir?" The short, dark woman grated.

"What were you intending to do before you were interrupted?" He spoke as if everything that had just happened was no longer of consequence to anyone.

"I was going to get the two privates settled in to their quarters." There was a note of incompleteness to those words, as if she had stopped herself from addressing him as 'sir'. "Looks like I'll have to make room for you too."

"Very well. Detail someone to show these two to their quarters then."

"Winnie," The XO's tone was brittle as she addressed the woman. "Have James come up here ASAP to show these two to their quarters. _You_ will see to Lieutenant Ng's needs."

"Yes, ma'am." Adelene could see no delight on Winnie's face despite the fact that her own chagrin at having been so ignominiously replaced by Alvin. Maybe there was some relief, but Winnie was taking no pleasure in seeing her tormentor replaced. At least she wasn't showing any glee outwardly.

"I shall be vacating my quarters to make way for the lieutenant here should there be a need for anyone to locate me." Adelene looked at her replacement, struggling against the urge to glare. "With your permission?"

"Carry on, lieutenant." Alvin said without a trace of emotion.

And without another word, Adelene turned sharply on her heel and left the shuttle bay before anyone had the opportunity to see the tears rolling down her burning cheeks.

**1112 HOURS – ****04 APRIL, 2214******

"So that's the new squadron leader." Private Christina Lai said as she looked at the video screen that displayed the shuttle bay's interior. An inquisitive person by nature, the communications operator had switched on that video feed as soon as she heard about the new arrivals so she could get a glance at them. "He looks pretty sharp."

"Isn't that the guy who was court-martialed or something . . ." Officer Janice Chan squinted at the screen, trying to make out the face of the only man who stood in the shuttle bay now. Winnie was offering to help with his duffel bag. "Now what was his name . . . Alan? Albert?"

"Alvin Ng." Lieutenant Kallie Chang, the _Fantasia_'s XO said frigidly from her bridge station that overlooked theirs. "That's him, alright."

"Ah, yes. That's his name." Janice nodded inn the affirmative. She caught the look on the XO's face and could not resist the urge to ask. "You know him, ma'am?" It was really more of a statement than a question.

"In more ways than one." Lieutenant Chang exhaled nosily as she stared at the display. There was little mistaking the loathing in her tone.

"Ma'am, if I may . . ." That was Christina who spoke, looking back from her station.

"No, Christina. You may not." Chang's gaze didn't shift though her features were now hardened and her eyes frosty.

"Oh . . ."

"Must have been something really bad, huh?" Janice chimed.

"I said _drop _it, Officer." The XO didn't quite snarl but it was as close as she had ever come to doing that since she had been aboard and the navigator was taken slightly aback, falling silent and quickly averting the senior officer's gaze.

"Ma'am," It was Christina who finally broke the uneasy silence on the _Fantasia_'s bridge. "Captain's on the line. He wants to know if you can make it to the mess later at 1500 hours."

"Tell him I'm tied down with paperwork and we'll be running a tracking and interception problem at that time."

"Uh . . . ok. Yes, ma'am. I'll let him know."

"As the communications operator relayed the XO's response to the Captain, Lieutenant Chang stalked out of the carrier's bridge without saying another word.

"We're having a tracking and interception exercise later?" Christina looked to Janice in mild surprise once she was done talking to the Captain.

Warrant Officer Janice Chan checked her forecast of events for the day and looked back, making a face as she shrugged. "I guess we do now."


	10. Episode 9: First Impressions

**Fresh Beginnings #3**

**Episode 9: First Impressions**

_Few have strength of reason to overrule the perceptions of sense, and yet fewer have curiosity or benevolence to struggle long against the first impression: he who therefore fails to please in his salutation and address is at once rejected, and never obtains an opportunity of showing his latest excellences or essential qualities._

- Samuel Johnson -

**1010 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

Warrant Officer Winnie Kok had fulfilled her obligations as ordered, bringing the incoming squadron commander on a guided tour of the carrier. Alvin Ng had followed the young officer politely, indulging her with his attention as she brought him through the ship's more important compartments, declining her repeated offers to take his bag.

Lieutenant Alvin Ng knew he had certainly spent far more time aboard _Forge_-class carriers than his present guide. It was likely that he had been serving on such vessels longer than Winnie had actually been in the JAF. But he had not wanted to waste the opportunity to evaluate one of his officers so soon and so he had gone along with the tour, knowing that Winnie was also buying time for Lieutenant Chan to vacate the squadron commander's quarters.

He noted that Winnie's voice held no bubbling pride for her ship as she went about explaining things as she went along. In fact, he was hard-pressed to find even a shred of pride in the woman. She wasn't proud of the fact that she was an officer, or an exo pilot or of being in the JAF at all. In fact, she seemed to have a certain fatalistic aura about her.

"This is ah . . . the airlock that . . . um . . . leads to the 'Tube'." Winnie explained in that halting, sheepish fashion that Alvin was growing used to. "If you'll ah, just step this way, sir." She hit the touchpad next to the thick, double-doors which hissed open to reveal a long tunnel with windows interspersed at regular intervals.

"After you, Winnie." Alvin said with a disarming smile and the younger woman nodded jerkily before gliding into the 'Tube'.

Presently they were moving through the ship's spine, which ran from bow to stern, passing through the six hangar and launch bays that had been arranged around it in hexagonal fashion. The area of the spine which passed through the hangars and launch bays was more commonly known as the 'Tube'. On a good day, a fortunate visitor would be able to catch glimpses of exo armors and fighters as they rushed through the launch bay and out into space. Other windows offered a view into the hangar bays where those very same crafted were maintained, repaired and readied for launch.

"Well, sir, stepping this down the Tube will . . .ah . . . bring you to the Ops deck . . . um, as well as the accessway to the habitat ring . . . um . . . where your quarters are located . . ." Winnie paused as if on instinct and looked over her shoulder, realizing that her charge was no longer following her. She had floated down the length of the Tube and had almost reached the other end and she saw that Alvin was further back, staring out one of the windows that allowed a view of one of the hangars.

Winnnie glided soundlessly over to him and noted that he made no sign of noticing her approached. He was staring into the hangar, looking almost entranced. "Ah, sir? Is there something, um, wrong?"

"It's been awhile," Alvin said slowly, never turning his eyes away from the view of the hangar. "God knows how much I've missed it." There was a pang of pain in his voice and for a moment Winnnie wondered if she should asked, then decided against it since she would never find the right words anyway.

Instead she said, "I see, sir. Well, would you, um . . . care to go down and well, uh . . . take a look?" She tried her best to smile encouragingly, not knowing what the man might have been thinking at this point in time.

"Well, why not?" Alvin said, finally turning away from the window to follow Winnie's lead till they came to a series of doors. Winnie deliberated for a moment, revealing that she hadn't really been on _Fantasia_ that long. Then she opened the hatch that led into Bay Two.

It was always disorienting to someone who had not spent much time on a carrier, or any warship for that matter. Since a warship was built like a skyscraper and exos and fighters were arrayed facing upwards, stepping into a hangar produced the effect of making an exo appear to be hanging overhead or facing the visitor directly, depending on how one 'swam' into the bay.

There was a _Pathfinder _Alpha in storage in Bay Two. A few deckhands were floating about, tending to the machine which had numerous access panels open. The first thing that struck Alvin as he stepped into Bay Two was the sheer size of the exo armor. He had known these machines ever so intimately all his adult life but he never got over the initial sense of awe whenever he saw one. And having spent some months 'on the beach' had produced a similar sense of awe to be in the presence of one of these awesome machines once more.

He blew a low whistle as he floated towards the _Pathfinder_. Reaching out with his right hand, he touched the cool metal hide of the exo-armor almost reverently. Winnie hung back, content to leave him some time to be alone.

"John, you _stupid cow_!" A high-pitched shirek ripped through the relative silence of Bay Two and Alvin's eyes flicked up to the source of the disturbance immediately. Winnie had come to recognize that voice in the time she had spent in the squadron and couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Come on . . . I had a friend in the Flying Circus who did the same thing!" Another voice, a masculine one this time spoke almost pleadingly. "It's just a tiny change."

"You are so _not_ touching my exo!" The woman snarled in reply.

"Well, I'm already standing on it."

"How about I push you off, then?" The female voice said menacingly.

The lieutenant squinted against the bright, overhead fluorescent lighting and could make out two figures standing atop the _Pathfinder_'s bulky shoulder pad. Judging from their posture, it looked as if they were just moments away from exchanging blows. Alvin cleared his throat and spoke loudly enough to be heard. "Excuse me, is there a problem?"

"And what's it to y . . ." The woman started as she looked down from her lofty perch. She must have noticed the rank tabs on Alvin's shoulder since she stopped in mid-sentence." Uh, no problem, sir. Just a very minor disagreement, sir."

"Didn't sound that way to me, Private." Alvin replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Uh, guys, there's someone I want you to meet." Winnie cleared her throat as she stepped forward. "So perhaps if you could both um, drop whatever you're doing for now . . ."

"Uh, ok . . . I knew that . . ." The man said as he began to clamber down the side of the exo gingerly.

"I'm not a guy." The woman, as if in mocking her compatriot leapt off the _Pathfinder_'s shoulder pad and rode the reduced gravity down onto the deck with almost unbelievable grace. There was something almost ethereal about the way she moved and Alvin realized that he was probably staring at a naturally exo pilot.

"Apologies for the disturbance, sir." The woman said and she touched down delicately. "I did not mean to cause a stir."

"Neither did I." The man said as he landed without anything that resembled the grace of his companion. Even in the reduced gravity, he managed to land heavily on the deck in front of Alvin.

"Guys . . ."

"I'm not a guy." Breanna repeated. "Especially if that's what John is."

"Alright, then," Winnie replied with a slight trace of exasperation mixed with amusement. "John, Bre, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Alvin Ng. Our new squadron CO."

The two privates exchanged surprised looks but it was the female who looked more surprised and she spoke up first. "What happened to Adelene?"

"Lieutenant Chan has been replaced . . . by me. I am in command now." Alvin replied in a flat, emotionless tone that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present.

"So she will be leaving us?" It was the male private's turn to ask.

"No, she will be remaining with us as the squadron's XO."

"Oh."

"So . . . what seems to be the problem, Private . . ." Alvin allowed his voice to trail off as he stared at the man.

"Cheah. Private John Cheah, sir. At your service. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"I'm not so sure you'll think that way if you knew me better." Alvin replied without smiling. "And it will be I who decides if you are of any service to me."

John recoiled slightly at the commander's reply, swallowing as he did. Winnie shifted nervously next to Alvin, suddenly feeling uneasy standing so close to him. "Well, um, of course, sir. My apologies for my oversight."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again." Alvin's tone was icy, making him far scarier than anything Lieutenant Chan had been during her relatively short reign as squadron commander. "You have a big mouth, Private. I'd be doubly careful to make sure it doesn't get you into trouble."

Alvin saw John's female companion look to him, sniggering softly and slipping him a nasty look. He whirled on her immediately. "And what's so funny, Private . . .?"

"Chan, sir. Private Breanna Chan, sir."

"Um, both Breanna and John are exo pilots, sir." Winnie said, choosing that moment to step in an attempt to defuse the situation. "And they're both pretty good."

"I will be the judge of that, thank you." Alvin told the younger officer brusquely. "I believe that is still my prerogative?"

"Uh, of course, sir. I didn't mean to . . ."

"I know, you didn't." Alvin nodded curtly, flashing her a ghost of a smile. For the first time since he had met her, Winnie's unchanging façade had slipped to reveal a tinge of stress and worry. "What did you say your name was again?" Alvin asked as he turned to Breanna once more.

"Breanna Chan." Breanna replied with a slight frown.

Alvin's brows shot up slightly at that. "Any relation to Lieutenant Chan?"

Lieutenant Ng saw Breanna try . . . and ultimately failed to keep her face from darkening. When she spoke, her tone was just as devoid of emotion as his had been moments ago. "She is my sister."

"I see." For a few moments, he actually remained silent, unsure as to how to continue. Then finally, after the seconds had dragged on into an uncomfortable near-eternity, he asked, "So what were you and John arguing about just now?"

"Oh, we weren't arguing, sir." Breanna replied with a slight trace of sarcasm. "I was merely explaining to John why one of his stupid suggestions wouldn't work."

"Oh, and what would that suggestion be?" Alvin directed his unsettling gaze over at John who shifted nervously.

"A minor disagreement over the settings of the apogee motors, sir." John answered awkwardly. "It's really nothing, sir . . ."

"How . . . minor?" Alvin asked, directing the question to either one of them.

"This . . . moron . . . was suggesting removing the output regulator for the thruster nozzles." Breanna explained, barely able to conceal the fact that she was still seething. "He claims it'd give me more maneuverability." She shot him a skeptical look.

"Well, Private Chan . . . truth be told, it will." Alvin answered in a measured tone and saw John turning slightly to slip her an 'I-told-you-so' look. "But it'd also burn out those thrusters real quick and you might be a sitting duck at a most inopportune moment."

"Ha! See?" It was Breanna's turn to give John the 'look. Alvin shot a glance over his shoulder, partly to cover his reaction and partly to shoot Winnie an inquiring look. But the warrant officer only shrugged elaborately and he resisted his own temptation to roll his eyes.

**1015 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

With a low, angry growl, Adelene thrust the last of her gear into the cargo module that she had laid on the floor. Satisfied that the lockers in what had till recently been her personal quarters were empty, she sealed the module with a frustrated sigh.

Since Lieutenant Ng had arrived to take over as squadron leader, she was no longer entitled to personal quarters. Normally, the only ones aboard a JAF warship who were entitled to personal accommodations were the ship's captain, executive officer and the onboard squadron commander if there was any. The other officers were assigned to twin-sharing quarters while enlisted crew received four-bed cabins.

Exo and fighter pilots, regardless of rank, were normally assigned to officer berths to denote their special status. The only exception to this convention was if a more important guest was being entertained aboard the vessel, which bump everyone from the XO downward to other quarters. But whatever the case, JAF crew quarters aboard ships were far more spacious and comfortable than those of it's greatest rival, the CEGA Navy.

But it wasn't the loss of size or fittings or even the privacy that bothered Adelene now as she tested the weight of the sealed cargo module. It was the prestige and honor of occupying that cabin and all it stood for.

She was no longer a squadron leader.

Given her age and rank, even the appointment as the squadron's Executive Officer was considered prestigious and highly coveted amongst her peers. But it _wasn't_ squadron command. And having tasted it and lost it in such short order and with such ignominy was indeed a very difficult pill for her to swallow.

Part of her struggled to understand what it could possibly be that the powers-that-be saw in Alvin that they didn't see in her. As far as she was concerned, she had a cleaner record that he had with all the checks in the right places. There really wasn't any reason for a disgrace like him to take over her. In fact, she was surprised that they were even letting him near an exo again after what he had done.

She gave the cabin one last look to make sure she hadn't missed anything, than hefted the cargo module in her arms and made her way over to the door. She stopped to tuck the box under one arm, balancing it on the thigh of one raised leg which had it's knee pressed against the wall so her other arm was free to hit the hatch release patch.

The hatch swooshed sideways and she almost dropped her box when she saw the form of Lieutenant Ng standing in the doorway with his bag in hand. While she wasn't all that shocked, his appearance had been mildly startling though she managed to grasped the box firmly with two hands while still balancing it on her thigh.

"Don't you believe in knocking?" Adelene snapped at him purely on instinct.

"I was going to. But you opened the door." The other lieutenant replied in a vaguely friendly and disarming tone. "Say, you need any help with that?"

Adelene noticed that her leg was still up and she was grasping the cargo module in a rather awkward way so she left the leg fall in order to show that the box wasn't really all that heavy. "No, it's ok. I can manage. Besides, I believe you'll be busy moving in." She simply hadn't been able to resist that last barb.

If he had detected the insult, Alvin didn't show it. Instead, he seemed even more helpful than before. "You sure? It's okay, I don't really have all that much to unpack. I'm sure it won't take long to help."

"It's ok, squadron commander, sir. I can manage." She grated through gritted teeth. "If you'd just get out of my way now . . ."

"Oh, sure. Sorry . . ." He held up his hands in surrender as he sidestepped to the left. But Adelene didn't wait from him to clear the hatchway before bulling her way out, the heavy cargo module brushing him roughly in the chest as she passed. She heard him grunt more out of surprise than actual pain. She didn't linger to apologize and she had probably turned the corner at the nearest bisecting passageway before he had recovered his breath to call out after her.

For a brief moment, she thought she felt tears coming as she hurried down the corridors. She ran into Private Grace Fong in the corridor, ignoring the other woman's salute and breezing past her so she wouldn't be able to see the look on her face.

She was now in 'Officer Country', the section of the habitat ring where the two-bed officers' staterooms were all located. Specifically, she was now where the Olympian Thunderbolts were accommodated. She glanced at the electronic nameplates on the doors as she went by.

Corporal Joshua Loke shared quarters with Sergeant Ryan Tan while Officer James Wong ws bunked in with Private John Cheah. For the women, Privates Adora Cheong and Candice Yap were assigned together while her sister Breanna was paired up with Grace Fong. So that had left only one choice for her.

She paused as she came up to the door that had only one name on it. This was certainly going to be awkward. Considering their working relationship over the past few weeks, it was going to be a difficult room assignment. As squadron XO, she still had the power to switch around bunk assignments but that would only complicate things and leave far too much open to needless speculation by the rest of the squadron.

She placed her palm on the scanner at the doorway and punched the keys to indicate that she was a new occupant for the room. It took a few seconds for the device to check with the ship's central computer to confirm that she had indeed been assigned that stateroom. Moments later, confirmation was received and the electronic nameplate altered itself to read: Lieutenant Adelene Chan / Warrant Officer Winnie Kok. Satisfied to have that chore out of the way, she thumbed the hatch release switch and stepped into her new home.

Stepping into the stateroom and dumping her cargo module onto the hard metal deck, she was surprised at how spotlessly clean and unbelievably neat the room was. Winnie's space bag, which still bore markings from her time as a cadet sat untouched in an open locker and was apparently the only sign that the room was actually occupied. Glancing at the double-decked bed, it was impossible to tell whether Winnie used the top or bottom deck. The sheets were folded to perfection, the pillows showed no sign of ever having being used.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she had kept the young officer as busy as she could during her every waking hour and sometimes beyond that. With no other exo pilots of officer rank, Winnie had been in command of the exo component of the squadron by default, though 'command' would not have been the word Adelene would have chosen. Winnie had spent more time trying to get things running and it was there that her inexperience really showed. Adelene never felt she was picking on Winnie. She simply believed the woman had brought in upon herself since she wasn't doing a good job. With time and experience, that would probably change though it probably wouldn't be in her hands anymore, Adelene thought darkly to herself.

Since she could not tell which bed Winnie was using, she decided she would have to settle that later. For some reason or another, that irked her but she tried to channel those negative thoughts away, focusing instead on unpacking her things and placing them in the other personal locker that was not in use.

She heard the swooshing of the hatch behind her and she whirled in a flash to confront the intruder, only to be greeted by the sight of Winnie's lanky frame in the hatchway, the junior officer looking equally startled to see the XO in her quarters.

"Ma'am." Winnie said, her posture shifting into an approximation of attention. She was still clad in her stained overalls, lending a sense of perpetual shabbiness to her. If one did not glance at the tiny, muted rank tabs on her shoulders, one could easily mistake her for one of the deckhands. The look of surprise on Winnie's face gave way to something more apologetic.

"I'll be moving in here." Adelene made no effort to disguise her bitterness and displeasure at the new bunking arrangements. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Why, no, ma'am. Um . . . of course not . . ." Winnie sputtered like a fish out of water, as if unable to believe what she had just heard. She gulped visibly and shifted uneasily on her feet, struggling to say something else. "I mean, um, it's your prerogative, um, isn't it, ma'am?"

"Just so you don't forget it." Adelene said more harshly than she had really intended to. "I trust Lieutenant Ng had a good tour?"

"Well, uh, I believe he's um . . . actually far more knowledgeable than I am." Winnie admitted with complete honesty and a touch of embarrassment. "He was fascinated with the flight deck though."

"I see. So I guess that means he enjoyed himself?"

"Um, I guess so, ma'am." Winnie shrugged. "Not that I'm any real judge. He didn't say. Anyway, he should be moving into his quarters now."

"You don't say . . ." The XO of the Olympian Thunderbolts replied sarcastically. _Quarters that has until this morning been mine_, was the dark, unexpressed thought rising in Adelene's mind. "Oh, come on then. We ought to get our stuff unpacked while he's doing the same. No telling when he's going to start making life hell on us."

Adelene turned back to the cargo module which now sat open on the floor in front of the locker she had claimed as hers, never quite seeing the grin on Winnie's face as she realized the irony of the whole situation.

**1439 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

The mood in the _Fantasia_'s bridge was tense. A spherical chamber buried in the ship's heart under heavy armor and several decks to prevent a lucky shot from crippling the vessel's ability to fight, the bride was truly the heart of the ship's operations.

With all the simulator software running, on would be have difficulty telling that the ship was actually still safely in port and not cruising the Solar System's inky black void. Not all of the seats were occupied though the main consoles were manned. The captain's chair in the center of the circular compartment was noticeably empty.

Even though they were just running another drill, the faces of the crew members participating in the simulation was grim. A testament to the realism of the training software being used and the professionalism of the _Fantasia_'s bridge crew.

"Tracking new contact. Bearing one-four-seven, fifteen degrees up-star. Designating at Alpha Two." The was Sergeant Chen Shu Huey, the _Fantasia_'s senior sensor operator. The carrier was truly fortunate to have a woman of her caliber aboard. So far, few things had ever escaped her vigil and she was an expert at getting the best out of her sensor suite. "IR signature indicated possible warship."

"Give me a full spectrum scan now." Lieutenant Kallie Chang said calmly. Chang noted that the sensor operator was already working on it even before she had given the instructions to use the _Fantasia_'s full gamut of sensory equipment which included infrared, ultraviolet, lidar, magnetometers, motion detectors, radcounters, electronic telescopes and the old reliable radars

"Navigator, how's that course calculation coming along?" Chang turned to green navigator who was struggling at her console. Warrant Officer Janice Chan looked back at the XO with a classic look of horror on her face.

"Ma'am . . . I-I'm not ready yet."

Chang's eyes narrowed at the navigator's response and a scowl appeared on her face. "Well, then hurry up before you get us all killed."

"I . . . I . . . yes, ma'am!" Janice turned back to her console, working frantically to complete the calculations for the course she had been plotting.

"Alpha One now identified as a _Hachiman_-class destroyer. Contact Two still unidentified. Possible corvette or frigate class vessel."

"Done!" Janice said with an immense sigh of relief. "Course plotted."

"Then don't keep it to yourself. Tell the helm where you want us to go." Chang replied sardonically in an effort to hide her exasperaration.

Sergeant Clarice Seah, the senior helmsman was looking over expectantly at the navigator. Private Valerie Tay, Clarice's understudy watched nervously as well, hands gripping the helm controls tightly, waiting for instructions to come from anyone senior to her which in her case was everyone else on the bridge.

"Helm, come to new course, one-three-"

"Fresh contacts! Separating from Alpha Two and accelerating fast!" The sensor operator cried out excitedly. "Designating as Bravo One and Two!"

"Identify!" The XO snapped without a moment's hesitation. "Navigator! Plot new course. Take us under Alpha One, full speed. I want a clear run at Alpha Two!"

"B-But . . ."

"You're wasting time." Lieutenant Chang said flatly to the young navigator who was peering back over her shoulder at the XO with her jaw hanging.

"Y-Yes, ma'am." Janice stammered and once more resumed her frantic calculations.

"Tagging Alpha Two as a _Tengu_-class escort carrier. Probably standard configuration." Sergeant Chen was speaking calmly, almost in monotone now. "

"Damn it!" Private Christina Lai sang out from her communications station as she reached for her comm headset. "Someone's trying to jam us!"

"Confirmed." Sergeant Chen nodded. "Computer is tagging Bravo One and Two as _Syreens_. Believe Bravo One to be _Commander_ variant with ECM pod."

"Very well then." Kallie Chang took in all the information calmly. "Navigator?"

"A few seconds more! I need a few seconds . . ."

"We don't have a few seconds, officer." Kallie snapped and she groaned inwardly as she watched the navigator panic.

**1445 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

"Ah, Alvin." Captain Andy Ho smiled expansively as the exo pilot stepped through the hatchway and into the Officer's Mess. He was quite amused to see the exo pilot glance at his wristwatch briefly before looking up to acknowledge the _Fantasia_'s skipper with a nod.

A few other officers were already there, standing around the ship's skipper, chatting idly with him before Alvin had arrived. "Everyone, may I have your attention, please." Ho got it and went on. "This is Lieutenant Alvin Ng, the new commander of the Olympian Thunderbolts."

Alvin forced a smile as he clasped the captain's extended hand, conscious of the looks he was getting from the other officers. He sniffed somewhat distastefully as the scent of alcohol that permeated the air and he saw several of the officers sipping from drinking bulbs that contained some form of amber liquid or the other. He was never one for mess functions or parties of any sort, due mostly in part to his allergy to alcohol and also because of his aversion towards social interaction, a trait that had been with him since young.

"Could we get you something to drink?" The captain asked as he released Alvin's hand, gesturing to the drinking bulbs that sat on the nearby bar counter. All held either amber or clear fluids that looked suspiciously like alcohol. "We have whiskey, bourbon and gin. Unless you want something else. I could get the steward."

"No, thank you, sir." Alvin declined as politely as he could. It was never a good idea in conventional wisdom to refuse an offer from a senior officer but Alvin knew himself and alcohol intimately well and it would have been a worse idea to accept the drink at all. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Ah, my apologies then." Captain Ho said with a look of understanding and a tinge of apology. The Captain actually looked slightly embarrassed by his own suggestion. "Will water be fine then?"

"Certainly, sir." No sooner had he answered did a raven-haired lady with golden rank tabs of a Warrant Officer (O) press a drinking bulb of clear, cool liquid into his hands. He took the bulb and looked up into those animated and almost-mischievous eyes.

"Here you go, sir." She grinned impishly.

"Ah, Lieutenant, allow me to introduce Officer Felicia Rusali first." The _Fantasia_'s skipper gestured to the woman with a smile that had come as a result of seeing hers. "She is one of our Deck Officers."

Alvin noticed that she was still staring at him with those large, laughter-filled eyes. He shifted uncomfortably under that gaze and looked down self-consciously at his uniform, checking to see if anything was out of place. He wondered briefly if it was the service ribbons and decorations that he had on the left breast of his uniform jacket. He had at least as many of those as Captain Ho. Finally he managed, "Pleased to meet you, Felicia."

"The pleasure is all _mine_, sir," she purred. Then without warning, she took his hand in hers and pumped it twice, slipping him a wink at the same time.

"Well . . . I, uh . . ." Alvin's features flushed involuntarily.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant." Captain Ho was saying now. "She does that to all the guys. Enjoys putting them off balance and just pull their leg every once in awhile."

"Oh, ah . . ." Alvin showed a look of understanding and hid the rest of his embarrassment with a hasty sip of his drink. Confident that the redness had subsided, he lowered the bulb and added, "She's apparently quite good at it too."

"That she is, Alvin. That she is." Andy nodded in agreement gesturing to the officer who happened to be standing next to Felicia. "Let me introduce you to the others. Lieutenant Hadi Witanto, Chief Engineer."

The man who now extended his hand was the complete opposite of Officer Rusali. While he couldn't exactly have been described as cold, he was certainly missing the warm intimacy displayed by the female officer.

"Pleased to meet you." Despite the crisp, precise and almost mathematical quality of the Chief Engineer's tone, Alvin could still sense the sincerity behind it. "Welcome aboard the JSS _Fantasia_."

"Glad to be aboard." Alvin replied reflexively as he shook hands with Witanto. He was never really one for small talk and Witanto was clearly not the sort who would indulge in idle chit-chat either. Alvin grinned inwardly. As an old joke went, he was convinced that there existed no engineers in the entire Solar System who enjoyed engaging in leisurely conversation. In fact, it seemed apparent that like Alvin himself, Lieutenant Witanto wished he were somewhere else other than sipping drinks and socializing in the Officer's Mess.

"Oh, let me introduce you to someone else then." Witanto said almost as an afterthought. He gestured to the familiar man who had been talking to him before Alvin had shown up. Where the Chief Engineer was a short, grizzled veteran (who looked like a mustang who had worked his way up from the enlisted ranks to earn a commission), who was getting round on the edges, his companion was lanky and intense, his work overalls hastily tidied up for the occasion. "Officer Joshua Wong. He is my . . ."

"DCO." Alvin completed as he extended his hand to the taller of the two officers. "We've already met when I first came aboard."

"Ah, I see." Witanto nodded curtly.

"It's an honor to have you aboard, sir."

"Yeah, well, whatever." Alvin shrugged as he released his grip on Joshua's hand, ignoring the somewhat crestfallen look on the junior officer's face as he looked to the next officer in line. To be exact, he looked down at the next man in line.

"Chief Warrant Officer Alfred Sim," the scrawny man with the pallid, bloodless complexion said by way of introduction. The man wore his hair like a little bush atop an angular face and his voice had a distinct nasal twang to it. "Chief Gunner aboard the _Fantasia_, sir." Despite the man's sickly and emaciated appearance, there was firmness and strength in his handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Chief." Alvin paused suddenly and squinted at the man before him, studying his features more carefully. "Have we met before?"

The Chief's forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall, then he nodded curtly. "I believe we have indeed, sir. Back on the _Godsfire_ 2210. Battle of Elysée. I was Senior Gunner in the Railgun Section."

"And I was still a flight leader then." A small smiled creased Alvin's features at the recollection. He nodded more firmly. "Ah, yes. I do remember you now. Congratulations on your promotion, Chief. It's a pleasure to be serving with you again. Let's just hope our second trip out together will be just as successful as our first."

"Well, we could do with fewer hits this time." _Fantasia_'s Chief Gunner said wryly. "The _Fantasia_ is one hot ship as it is, but she's no _Godsfire_."

The _Godsfire _had been the first of a new class of ships bearing the same name. Built in line with Jovian commanders strategic thinking which called for each of the three Divisions to possess an invasion fleet capable of launching preemptive strikes or retaliatory missions against any aggressor, the _Godsfire_ had been truly revolutionary at the time of its launching. It was by far the largest warship in the Solar System at the time and serving aboard her was considered a great honor for anyone in the JAF.

The original _Godsfire_ had featured a large 'weapons block' where its formidable firepower had been centralized. However, this section had proved particularly prominent and the _Godsfire_ had been heavily damaged during the Battle of Elysée when it went up against the _Scylla_, the _Poseidon_-class battleship that had served as the rogue CEGA Admiral Kleb's flagship.

Alvin had recalled how he had scrambled from a still pristine supercarrier to intercept CEGA forces that were threatening the Confederation's capital then returning later to a vessel that bore the horrendous scars of battle. Much of the _Godsfire_'s weapons block had been devastated by repeated enemy volleys and majority of the Jovian flagship's casualties were inflicted on the weapons crews. That would have meant that Alfred Sim was one of the few lucky survivors. Looking into the other man's eyes, Alvin could see that they were still haunted by the memory of the ordeal. He had witness the horrific aftermath for himself, visiting the shattered weapons decks after the Battle. But to have lived through it was certainly something else . . .

"Yes, indeed." Alvin sobered. "Let us hope for that."

""Lieutenant Josephine Liu, Tactical Officer." Captain Ho said, gesturing to the woman who was next in line in an effort to break the uneasy silence that followed.

The _Fantasia_'s Tactical Officer was a beautiful woman with large full lips that would probably have given way to a winsome smile, large brooding eyes that could have been dreamy at times and finely-plucked arched brows that lent her an aristocratic air. And she would probably been irresistibly attractive if not for the frown on her face that was almost a scowl and the superior air of severity that Alvin was almost sure she had erected for reasons known only to her.

"Hello, Josephine." Alvin said guardedly, trying to read the woman's thoughts and gauge her mood as he offered his hand.

She didn't take it. Instead, she looked him over and sniffed almost disdainfully before nodding. "That will be 'Lieutenant' to you." Her tone was harsh and frigid. "Lieutenant Josephine Liu, Tactical Officer."

"A pleasure to meet you then, Lieutenant." Alvin almost stammered as he replied. The words left his mouth hollow and forced.

"Then it must most certainly be yours since I see no pleasure in meeting you or having you aboard." She told him bluntly.

At that exact moment, the temperature in the Officer's Mess seemed to plummet and even Captain Ho looked stunned by his Tactical Officer's reply, his mouth seeming to move but no words coming forth.

Alvin blinked exactly twice. "Excuse me, Lieutenant?" Alvin had trouble giving her rank the proper respect it deserved as he spoke. "Did you just say you're not happy to have me aboard?"

"Your words, not mine." Josephine answered, arching one of those well-kept brows at him. "I merely said that there was no reason to find pleasure in meeting you or having you aboard."

"I see. My apologies for my misinterpretation." Alvin said, finally recovering from his initial surprise and slipping into the deathly formality that he used whenever he encountered someone whom he found problematic.

"Now, now, Jo. Lieutenant Ng is a highly skilled exo commander and he comes highly recommended." Captain Ho intervened, finally regaining enough of his composure to trust himself to speak.

"By who? The Deathwings?"

Even though he had heard such things many, many times since the Battle of Kurtzenheim, it still stung each and every time. He felt his heart ache as the memories that were unlocked by Josephine's simple statement came flooding back, flashing before his mind's eye.

"And what kind of 'highly skilled' commander gets his _entire_ squadron killed?"

Alvin felt his jaw twitch with the urgings on an angry retort but instead he kept chose to keep quiet. After all, Josephine's question did echo the ones that he had been asking himself even since the ill-fated peacekeeping mission to Mars even though he had been all but acquitted at the court martial.

"Now, now, Jo. Alvin's last action was at Kurtzenheim and as you know . . ." Captain Ho was beginning to explain to Josephine but Alvin wasn't listening anymore. A quick glance at the ribbons on her uniform jacket revealed that she had missed out on Kurtzenheim. How do you explain to someone who was not there? How does one try to convey the depth of the horror to someone who has not experienced it firsthand? It was strange. He had asked himself that question not all too long ago at his court martial.

As the Captain continued his attempt to win Josephine over to his side, Alvin's mind wandered. Back to memories he had tried to bury for months. Back to the baleful, war-torn void over the Red Planet.

**1638 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

Lieutenant Kallie Chang was tired. The string of simulated combat scenarios that she had just run through with the bridge crew had been exhausting to say the least. There wasn't any dramatic change in the overall performance today which was good in some ways and bad in others.

She thought about the people who had worked with her only minutes before. Private Christina Lai may have been preparing for her very first cruise but that she didn't seem to let that serve as an excuse for making mistakes. She had demonstrated an adequate understanding of her communications and electronic warfare systems and was able to react with sufficient speed to scenarios which called upon her to do use her limited expertise.

As usual, there was no problems from Sergeant Chen. She was as good as they came. Normally shy and softspoken, Chen was a true professional in her chosen field. Watching her divine meaning from the myriad symbols displayed on the sensor repeaters was akin to watching a talented artist at work. Such was her quiet competence on the _Fantasia_'s bridge.

Private Valerie Tay, the junior helmsman, wasn't too bad as well. From the way she handled the carrier, Kallie was surprised that the woman hadn't been assigned to handle something a little more nimble, such as a _Corsair_ or better yet, an _Athena_. There was no denying that Valerie Tay was a hot pilot. She had a good feel for moving through space. The only thing she lacked at the moment was confidence. Something which her upperstudy, Sergeant Clarice Seah, the senior helmsman aboard the carrier, had plenty off and wasn't fussy in passing on. But for now, they'd still have to make do with the occasional over-controlling whenever Valerie got a little too excited.

Warrant Officer (O) Janice Chan was the wild card now. She was the senior navigator aboard by default due to her rank as there was only one officer in the navigation team aboard most Jovian warships. Kallie had seen her plot courses before. There was nothing wrong with the way Janice did her calculations. She was promising, in fact. But every time she had to do things on the fly or under stress, the young officer tended to lose a chunk of the confidence that she displayed elsewhere. It was almost as if she had become another person completely. And Kallie Chang knew that no matter how good an officer may have been at their job, they were next to worthless if they panicked under pressure.

That wasn't the entire bridge crew, but those had been the ones present for her snap exercises which she liked to hold to test how sharp they were. She, for one, did not relish the thought of waiting until they were in combat to find out just where each one of their strengths and weaknesses lay. And of course there was another reason for holding such a sudden drill . . .

Alvin Ng was aboard the _Fantasia_. She had seen it on the video and she knew at once that it was him.

Others may have had their reasons for feeling uncomfortable with his presence aboard the carrier, particularly after what had transpired at Mars. Kallie had tried to suspend judgment on that since she hadn't been seen it for herself. And besides, there were _a lot _of other things for her to be mad at Alvin for.

As if on cue, she froze. There was a familiar sound coming from the passageway she was about to turn into. Her heart almost stopped as she trained her ear to the sound which was receding down the passageway. It sounded like . . . it probably was . . .

She edged up to the corner and snuck a peek, looking down the passageway that led to the officer's quarters. She was just in time to catch a fleeting glance of the side profile but she knew immediately, even after so many years, that it was _him_.

Alvin Ng, now a lieutenant, was truly aboard her ship. He hadn't seen her since he was engrossed in conversation with Officer Yeo, the Marine Detachment commander and that was just fine with her. The longer they could delay their meeting, the better.

"Um . . . excuse me, is something wrong?" A voice came from behind, causing her to jump and whirl on the intruder. She barely managed to suppress a yelp which would certainly have drawn Alvin's attention.

Then she realized she was standing face to face with Corporal Jerel Tan, a member of the carrier's security team, who was on his rounds. He looked almost as startled to see her as she was. "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize . . ."

"No, it's ok, Corporal."

"Is something the matter, ma'am?"

"No, no, everything's fine." Kallie replied, forcing herself to smile at him reassuringly.

"If you say so, ma'am." The man eyed her skeptically. It was not everyday that one found senior officers peering around corners as if they were in some cheap spy flick.

"Well, I've got to run along now." Kallie said, moving past him and back in the direction she had just come. "Keep up the good work." She nodded at him solemnly, then took off in a hurry, not bothering to look back to see Jerel shrug, then peer round the corner just to be sure.


	11. Episode 10: Harter Kampf

**Forging the Thunderbolt #1**

**Episode 10: _Harter Kampf_**

_Kampf _– (noun) Struggle; war; fight; conflict

_Harter kampf – _(noun) Uphill struggle.

- Idiot's Guide to the Martian Federation German -

**2146 HOURS – 04 APRIL, 2214**

It was only his first day aboard and he was already working late. Strangely, he found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from his computer for more than a minute. The spreadsheets detailing the maintenance logs for the various interceptors and exo armors were displayed on the screen which sat on the desk before him.

He had never seen himself as much of a commander. He was more of a combat leader, possessing the skills to lead his squadron under fire than actually run it day to day. He simply didn't feel that he had the organizational skills to really handle all the details and skull-work that went into bossing a squadron in anything other than out in space and he had often delegated to his junior officers.

But that had been before Kurtzenheim. Before the court martial. Before his stint at the Exo Replacement Department.

His last assignment had forced him to learn how to read maintenance logs and the like. And he had been introduced to the arcane art of studying patterns in such dreary records. So far, he was generally pleased with what he saw. The machines were in pretty good condition and the deckhands were keeping them that way. Winnie Kok's _Pathfinder _ST was the most reliable of the lot, having suffered the fewest down checks of all the squadron's craft.

But he also noticed that the exo armors had been putting in fewer flight hours than the interceptors while the squadron had been under Lieutenant Chan's command. That would certainly have to change. In fact, he thought as he consulted the flight hours for each machine once more, everyone would be flying more, now that he was the boss.

He knew he had to finish reviewing the maintenance logs a little sooner. He still wanted to finish going through the personnel dossiers of all the pilots in the squadron before he turned in for the night. As if in direct response to that thought, the door chime to his office sounded, forcing him to look up from his computer.

For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he could simply ignore the visitor and simply carry on with his work. The door chime sounded a second time before he could return his attention to his computer so he cleared his throat and called out, "It's open."

A heartbeat later, the doors swooshed open to reveal the lanky frame of Warrant Officer Winnie Kok standing nervously in the doorway. In her hands, she held a tiny, flat container which Alvin recognized immediately as one used to serve main entrées at the ship's galley.

"Yes, Winnie?"

"Um, good evening, sir." She began, sounding somewhat unsure. "We um, kinda missed you at dinner and well, uh . . . I was wondering . . ."

"If I've eaten yet?" Alvin looked at her with a raised brow. "The answer's no, Winnie."

"Um, well, then, sir . . ." She looked nervously down at the package that she held in her hands. "I've got you something from the galley . . . Um, it's not much, but . . ."

"Thanks, Winnie." Alvin allowed himself a slight smile and he made a show of clearing his desk and indicating to an empty spot. "It was really thoughtful of you."

She crossed the distance that separated them almost in reverent silence and he could sense her anxiety as she laid down the food container carefully on the cleared portion of his desk. As soon as the meal container was safely down, she pulled her hands back and assumed the posture of attention.

"Hope you like it, sir." She said formally. "Um, will there be anything else?"

"Considering that it wasn't I who summoned you, no." Alvin waited till she was about to turn before he spoke again. "Yes, there is one thing."

"Sir?"

"I'm going to interview each and every one of you tomorrow morning. Just to get to know you people better." The squadron commander explained. "First thing in the morning. Here would be preferable. I'd leave the arrangements to you."

"Um, me, sir . . .?"

"Yes, you, Winnie." There was a slight frown on the commander's face. "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no, sir . . . Um, just that, well, uh . . . isn't that, uh, normally left to the XO?" Winnie was biting her lip in anxious anticipation of what she imagined would be her commander's annoyed response.

"Normally, I supposed." Alvin conceded. "But I'm the boss here and it's my job to delegate, isn't it? So if there's no further problem, carry on."

The younger officer hesitated, her body turning but her feet seemingly undecided on whether to move or not. She lingered a moment longer, until she saw his lips moving to voice a query.

"Um, yes, sir." She finally said, speaking before he could. "I'll get on it right away."

He watched the nervous, rookie officer leave. The hatch slid shut behind her and left him alone once more in the confines of his office. Even though this was his first day aboard the _Fantasia_, he could see himself treating this small compartment as his solace and refuge. It had been like that at his previous assignments as well. Oddly enough, he found some form of comfort, surrounded by reminders of the more mundane tasks that came with his job. Perhaps he was a workaholic, he mused. Or perhaps it was because it offered him a chance to be alone and away from everything else.

He studied the food container on his desk and picked it up, noting that it was still rather warm. Peeling over the re-sealable cover, he saw the usual vat-grown, algae paste that had been produced by the ship's recyclers. High in all the nutrients required to sustain human life, the soft, featureless paste was ideal for the Jovian psyche and way of life.

Having been a soldier for the better part of his life, Alvin had little experience with the Confederation's civilian work culture. But what little he had seen during his time at Jovian Armor Works had convinced him that the average civilian was every bit as hardworking, if not more so than a member of the JAF. And unlike members of the armed services such as himself, the average civilian didn't have enforced eating and resting breaks, hence foods that were easy to consume on the go saw widespread popularity in the Confederation.

In the times that he had met people of other nationalities, particularly those from the planetary colonies, the comment about Jovian synthetic foods had always been the same – bland and distasteful. Well, having eaten real meat on several occasions, Alvin wasn't thoroughly impressed himself, and he didn't understand why people back home were willing to spend so much on such 'natural' food when synthetics were tastier and healthier in his own opinion. Of course, it was somewhat ironic that he had a preference for chicken flavored synthetic meals while he actually did not find himself particularly drawn to the real thing.

With the spoon attached to the container, he scooped up a small pile of the soft paste and took a tentative nibble. There was an appealing but unidentifiable taste to the mouthful of food. Either the _Fantasia_'s stewards were above average cooks (though cook would be a misnomer since stewards were really food preparation specialists rather than chefs per se) or he was really hungry and his mind was playing tricks on his taste buds.

With that tiny morsel down his throat, he took a larger bite, this time emptying the spoon before placing it back into the container. He stared at the screen again. Suddenly, with food in front of him, the spreadsheets no longer made much sense. Feeling somewhat guilty at that, he closed the maintenance reports and called up the personnel records of the pilots who were assigned to his squadron. That would certainly make lighter reading, so he thought.

He picked a name from the list of interceptor pilots at random and took another spoonful as he waited for his computer to retrieve the requested record. He was just about to take another mouthful of nutrient-enriched mush when the screen refreshed, the picture attached to the dossier giving him pause immediately.

He stared at the file image of the pilot in wide-eyed horror, then checked the name. _No_, _it can't be_ . . . But as he read on, there was no doubting who the pilot was. He dropped the spoon back into the container as his mind whirled, old memories flooding back into his mind, his food lying forgotten on the table.

**0758 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"It's favoritism, I tell you," Lieutenant Adelene Chan said heatedly to her sister.

The younger of the Chan sisters rolled her eyes in a manner that showed it wasn't the first time she was hearing this from Adelene. "Oh, come off it already, Ade. You know that assumption's crazy."

"It's no assumption, alright . . ." Adelene's eyes narrowed into slits. "Organizing these interviews is the XO's job. And what does he do? He gives it to that . . . _exo_ pilot!"

Out the corner of her eye, Corporal Breanna Chan could see Warrant Officer Winnie Kok suddenly concentrating on a spot of deck between her booted feet. "Now, now . . ." Breanna said soothingly.

"I don't understand why you are so upset, ma'am." That was Grace Fong who bravely leapt into the conversation from her seat next to Adelene's. "After all, he is one of the foremost authorities on small craft tactics. I mean, his writings were required reading back when I was still a trainee."

"It is _you_ who doesn't understand." The former squadron commander said bluntly. "What do you know about any of all this, you're just a private."

If Private Grace Fong was affected by Adelene's remark in any way, she didn't let it show. Instead, she seemed even more persistent than ever before. "But his reputation as a master tactician does precede him . . ."

"Oh, yes," Adelene nodded and her tone dripped with sarcasm. "His reputation _does_ precede him. And remember, he got his entire squadron killed in their last battle. Where were the tactics in _that_?"

"Well, it was a tough battle and many JAF units suffered heavy losses . . ." Grace began

"What do you know about it?" Adelene snapped. "I was there. You weren't."

"Alright, Ade . . .Let's not get so snappy." Breanna intervened, exchanging a look with Grace that told the junior interceptor pilot that it was better for her to withdraw while she still could. The soft-spoken interceptor pilot was quick to take the cue and she made herself scarce before she could get herself entangle in any further argument. "Maybe Winnie just happened to be in the right place at the right time . . ."

"It's just like you to say that. After all, you're all exo pilots."

"Aw, come on . . ." Breanna shook her head in exasperation. "Listen to yourself! You're just being plain unreasonable."

"I don't think so . . ." Adelene retorted menacingly. "You're the one who's not listening."

"Hey, if he had asked you, would you have done it?" Breanna asked sharply then quickly added, "Willingly?"

"Well, I . . ." Adelene hesitated and never got to reply as Corporal Joshua Loke, called out a warning that was barely loud enough to be heard above the drone of conversation in the ready room.

"Officer on deck!"

Lieutenant Ng was already waving them aside as he stepped through the hatchway into the ready room, even as they rose to their feet so as to come to the posture of attention as protocol demanded.

"As you were, people," He seemed quite unwilling to stand on ceremony this morning as he stepped up to the slightly raised platform at the front of the ready room and took his place behind the briefing lectern. "Please, be seated."

The pilots looked at one another in slight surprise and for a stunned moment, no one seemed to move. Then Lieutenant Adelene Chan led the way by dropping back noisily into her seat and one by one, the others followed suit. The squadron commander made a show of glancing through some notes that he had brought in with him as they sat.

When all movement had ceased, he looked back up again at the assembled pilots. "Is everyone who's supposed to be here already here?"

There was silence and he noticed that they were all avoiding eye contact with him. Winnie coughed nervously and her mouth moved silently, as if unsure or whether she should speak or not. He was about to ask her when the hatch at the back of the room hissed opened and Warrant Officer James Wong came scrambling into the room, gasping for breath. He was about to dash for the nearest empty seat when he noticed that all eyes, including that of the squadron commander, were on him.

"Um, hi . . . sir." He waved, biting his lip in anticipation of the torrent of abuse he was sure would come his way in a matter of moment. "Nice morning, isn't it?"

"You're late, Mister Wong." Alvin said humorlessly as he glanced at his wristwatch. "By two minutes. Explain."

"I was um . . ." James hands were in front of him in animated motion as he tried to explain himself. "Well, _who_ would have guessed showers were so cold in the morning?"

"Unacceptable." Alvin noticed several pilots wincing as he uttered that single word. "Have a seat and stop wasting my time."

"Sir, of course, sir!" And James leapt into the nearest seat.

"Now, with that aside, who wants to go first?" He flashed a grin and again he found himself staring at the tops of his pilots' heads more than at their faces. "Come on . . . volunteers?"

Not a single soul moved and all eyes were cast towards the deck. An awkward heartbeat passed, and then another. But still no one moved. Other than the background noise made by the ship's machinery, the only other audible sound in the compartment was Winnie's nervous coughing.

"Well, don't all go rushing forward at once." Alvin didn't bother biting back the sarcasm in his tone. "Alright, we'll just have to do this the hard way. Winnie, you're first." Without saying another word, he gathered up his things from the lectern and strode towards the entrance to his office which lay to his left. Out the corner of his eye, he could see some of the other pilots in the squadron slapping Winnie on the back, offering congratulations and condolences at the same time.

Resisting the urge to sigh out loud, Lieutenant Alvin Ng opened the door to his office and ducked right in.

**0807 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Could you . . . repeat that?" Alvin allowed his uncaring demeanor to slip as he looked up in wide-eyed surprise at what he _thought_ Winnie had just said.

"Um, sir . . ." She hesitated visibly now that his gaze was finally upon her and not at something on his personal computer. "I said that . . . uh . . . I uh, do not wish to um, be a flight leader." She spat the last phrase out so rapidly that he wouldn't have understood her if he hadn't heard her the first time round.

Alvin blinked. "Let me get this straight. You," he aimed an index finger at her in a semi-accusing manner as he spoke in a pointed tone. "Do not wish to be a flight leader?"

"Uh, yes," Winnie fidgeted under the penetrating look that he gave her. "Sir."

"You say this even when you haven't actually been assigned as a flight leader?"

"Well, sir . . . I guess that I uh, well, uh . . . would be made one. Since I'm uh . . . the only other exo pilot of officer rank, well, besides you in the squadron."

"Very perceptive of you, Officer." He said flatly as he swiveled his chair so that she could only see the side profile of his face. "You are either very brave or very scared. I'm not sure I know which." He allowed the words to sink in as he studied a hologram of the JSS _Godsfire_ that hung on the wall before him. The tension in the office was palpable as the squadron commander allowed the silence to stretch.

Again Winnie coughed nervously. But other than that, she stood rigidly at attention now, awaiting her fate.

"You _do_ realize that considering the fact that our nation is currently at war, what you just said could easily be interpreted as an admission of incompetence . . . or even worse – cowardice." It was finally after he had finished speaking that he shifted his head ever so slightly to fix her with a critical eye.

Winnie swallowed visibly and he could see the panic in her eyes. "Yes, sir. I realized that." But her eyes told him otherwise.

"All right, Winnie. You've told me what you want." Alvin allowed some of the edge in his tone to bleed away. "Now convince me as to why I should give you what you want."

"Sir?"

"Well, you don't want to be a flight leader, right? So tell me why?" There was a note of anger in his exasperated response. "I think I'm entitled to that. Don't you think your squadron commander's entitled to an explanation?"

"Sir! O-of course, sir!" Winnie replied crisply enough to please any OTS instructor. "Sir, it's just that . . . well . . . it's just that I don't think I can . . . uh . . . handle it . . . yet. Sir."

"Don't think you can handle it yet?" Alvin frowned at the tall, slender woman. "What's that supposed to mean? I've seen your OTS and flight training results, you're a born pilot. You've got all the right moves. You telling me that we're not training our officers good enough these days?"

"Sir, it's not that, sir. Uh, well, sir . . . I'm not ready to lead. I don't think I've got what it takes."

"Well, then the only way to get what it takes is to go out there and do it, isn't it?"

"Sir, this is different . . . lives are at stake here." Winnie replied hesitantly, sensing she wasn't putting up a particularly convincing argument.

"This is war, Winnie." Alvin told the young officer coldly. "Lives will always be at stake."

"Sir . . ." Winnie was trying her best not to look crestfallen. "If you um, order me to do it, I'll do it. But I _know_ I can't."

"That's not actually for you to decide." The squadron looked back at his computer screen and frowned. "Consider yourself lucky. If it weren't for the fact that I believe you to be salvageable, I would have no hesitation in transferring you out, though I'd doubt you'd ever find a unit commander willing to grant your . . . unusual request."

Once again, the silence in the squadron's commander's officer stretched on for an uncomfortably long time. Alvin waited until he saw Winnie fidget before he spoke again. You realize that the next person after you in seniority where exo pilots are concerned would be Joshua Loke?"

"Sir." Winnie nodded abruptly and answered haltingly. "I realize that. Sir."

"He's a corporal." He said simply before looking back up at Winnie again. "Last I checked, corporals do not lead flights. Nor do they command warrant officers."

Winnie opened her mouth to speak, then thought the better of it and remained silent, allowing her superior to maintain control of the conversation instead.

"While I empathize for you, I must also remain fair and work within regulations." Alvin carried on smoothly. "I will grant you this. We're still short of one exo pilot. If he or she turns out to be another officer, then you can get your wish. If not, you're still going to find yourself leading a flight. Fair enough?"

"Sir, yes, sir." Winnie responded, barely able to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice.

**0813 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Your record states you're qualified to fly the _Vindicator_." Alvin frowned slightly at the information up on screen before him.

"Yeah, man. I mean, sir." Private John Cheah replied sheepishly, painfully aware of his mistake. "My apologies for the informality, sir."

"You've never flown it operationally?" Alvin went on, as if oblivious to what John had just said.

"Sir, my previous unit didn't have any _Vindicators_ in its inventory."

"Well, neither do we. For now." The squadron commander explained. "So I hope you will be fine with sticking to the _Pathfinder_ Alpha for now. I know she's not exactly the most heavily armed exo in the . . ."

"It's ok, sir." John nodded. "Really."

"Which brings me to my next question." He fixed the private with a steely look. "You didn't complete your tour with you last squadron. Instead, you kept asking for a transfer. Why?"

John hesitated slightly as he struggled to find the words to answer. "Sir, I . . . well, for the same reasons Breanna did, sir."

"Well, I haven't interviewed Breanna yet, John. So unless I'm psychic, I wouldn't have the foggiest clue as to why you did it. Besides, this interview is about you, John, not her. Unless you're saying that it was entirely her idea to get that transfer and you simply tagged along."

"Sir, no, sir." John replied softly, looking towards the deck.

"Then? Speak up, man. And look up when I talk to you."

"Sir, yes, sir!" John snapped back up to attention. "Sir, it . . . I . . . we're at war, sir!"

"Funny, that sounded like my line a few moments ago." Alvin remarked wryly more to himself than to John. Then added sarcastically in his direction. "And thanks anyway for the newsflash. I really needed to know that, yeah?"

"Sir, a colony defense squadron is no place for pilots of our caliber to be stuck in. We want combat, sir. We want to get out there and do our bit." John explained animatedly and passionately. "Sir, we don't want to spend our time in some second line squadron waiting for an attack that may never come when we can be out here, on the tip of the spear and taking the fight to the enemy."

"So you're saying you're not happy with the task of being that final thin line of defense aboard a colony cylinder that's home to hundreds of thousands, if not millions of innocent citizens who have no one to count on except the JAF?"

"Well, sir, no . . . um, I mean yes. Well, actually I mean, no."

"You're beginning to sound a bit like Officer Kok. Make up your mind, Private."

"Sir, it was never my intention to shirk my duty to the citizens of the Confederation." John managed to say after regaining his composure. "But neither was it my desire to be the _final_ line of defense. Given a chance, I want to be the _first_ line of defense."

For a long moment, Lieutenant Alvin Ng kept very silent, looking at his desk. A part of him wondered why he couldn't have any pilots who were like his old Deathwings. The memory of his former comrades brought with it a stab of pain and he quickly banished those thoughts.

"Well said, Private." Alvin's face was a stern, unreadable mask. "However, it begs my next question. When was your last psych review?"

"Sir . . .?"

Then the squadron leader's features gave way to a lopsided grin. "Relax, John. I was only joking. I've been in your shoes before and I _know_ exactly how you feel." The lieutenant stood and extended his hand. "Welcome to the Thunderbolts, Private Cheah. I'm sure you're going to find your time here both exciting and fulfilling."

**0823 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

Officer Joshua Wong was out on the docking platform supervising a work detail composed of his bosuns as they clambered around the ship's hull, checking for any signs of damage, unsecured access panels and all other forms of irregularities. Word was that the _Fantasia_ was due to begin space trials soon and would be leaving dock any day now.

Nearby, Officer Jeremy Kiew and his own work detail were overseeing the transfer of yet more supplies into the ship's massive holds via large conveyor belts. As each pallet passed by, the men and women of the Quartermaster Department would sweep their handheld scanners over the containers, registering each and every cargo module that was being hauled up into the ship's hull.

He heard the measured sounds of footfalls behind him above the din of the conveyor belts and his own people doing some spot-welding on the relatively pristine hull of the _Fantasia_. Officer Wong turned and saw a tall, lanky man in the uniform of an exo pilot with lieutenant's rank tabs on his collar and a heavy-looking space bag in hand.

His less than stellar encounter with Lieutenant Alvin Ng the day before still stung his pride somewhat so this time, he made a greater effort to straighten his uniform before stepping up to meet the man just short of the boarding tube.

"Good morning, sir!" Officer Wong greeted crisply, his hand flashing up in a parade ground perfect salute as he came to attention in just off to the new arrival's side.

The lieutenant looked somewhat startled by his greeting and he stopped to drop his bag onto the metal deck before returning the salute. Though he wasn't exactly sure what it was, Joshua Wong knew that there was something different about this visitor. The other man's salute was far more exuberant than his and he was almost sure that he saw the lieutenant slapped his heels together.

"Good morning to you, Warrant Officer."

Again, Joshua's suspicions about this new arrival were amplified, this time by the man's heavy accent and the fact that he had even used his rank. By and large, lieutenants in the JAF did not address Warrant Officers in full. In fact, they hardly acknowledge the rank at all. As the lowest form of officer life aboard the _Fantasia_, Warrant Officer (O) Joshua Wong was used to being called 'Wong' or if he was lucky, 'Joshua' by his superiors.

"Are you looking for something, sir?" Joshua tried to sound polite despite his mounting suspicion. The media had run a lot of stories about spies and traitors in the aftermath of the Mars operation and there's was no telling who could be an agent of a nation with less than pleasant intentions towards the Confederation.

"Yes. The JSS _Fantasia_. I believe this is it?" The lieutenant asked politely, looking past Joshua and at the ship that currently sat placidly in dock.

Joshua found himself shifting to stand between the lieutenant's gaze and the ship, as if it would somehow protect his beloved vessel from this rather suspicious exo pilot. "Yes. Do you have orders to report to her?"

"Affirmative. I do." The man reached inside his tunic and retrieved a thin sheet of printed plastic. Joshua took it and glance through it quickly. His eyes drifted to the bottom and widened at the signature, then he hastily returned the sheet.

"My apologies, sir." Joshua replied nervously. "I hope you understand that I just have to che . . ."

"The inconvenience was negligible and necessary, Warrant Officer . . ."

"Wong. Joshua Wong." He snapped to rigid attention. "Ship's Damage Control Officer, at your service, sir."

"Thank you, Warrant Officer Wong. Your thoroughness is commendable and appreciated. Perhaps you can give me directions to the squadron's ready room now."

"Of course, sir." Joshua heaved a sigh of relief that this new arrival was not offended by his paranoia and suspicion. A part of him began to wonder why the brass had assigned yet another lieutenant to the squadron. He had already heard about what happened to Lieutenant Chan. _So why would the Thunderbolts need another officer_? He let the question linger for only a moment, then decided he wasn't being paid enough to think and simply said, "Follow me, if you'd please, sir. I'll show you the way."

**0829 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Thanks for the sharing, Private." Alvin nodded to his latest interviewee who sat across him. She smiled wordlessly but beatifically at him. Deep down inside, Alvin knew he was going to like Private Breanna Chan. As an exo pilot, she had the grace and agility to really make a _Pathfinder_ dance, the aggressiveness to mix it up with the enemy, and the brains to know when it was time to bug out.

But beyond that, he and Breanna could simply click. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the kind of chemistry that one normally read about in novels. Maybe it was just because they communicated on the same wavelength or something. Whatever it was, there was something about Breanna that reminded Alvin about his former squadron and that familiarity still brought more smiles than frowns.

"There's just one last thing I want to ask you." Alvin said and she looked up at him, still smiling. "It's probably just a coincidence. But you and Lieutenant Chan look somewhat alike. Is there . . ."

The smile on Breanna's face faded ever so slightly as she replied, "She's my sister."

"Oh."

"Would there be anything else, sir?" Breanna asked, with a slightly hard edge to her voice.

"I take it that it's not something you like talking about?"

"No, sir. It is not." This time, he noted that her tone was devoid of all emotion.

"I see. Is it going to affect your performance in the squadron?"

"Of course n . . ."

"Honestly?" The single word emanating from the officer's mouth was more than enough to cut Breanna off in mid-sentence and she fell silent before him as she mulled over the question glumly.

"Well . . . I'll try not to let it bother me, sir." She finally grated after much thought.

"That's not good enough to keep you in my squadron. " Alvin didn't like having to say that, especially since he knew how hard it had been for her to get this assignment. And after all, he really liked her since she had come the closest to reminding him of the Deathwings. "I need to know if I can trust you to keep your head screwed on right when the time comes to count on you."

If Breanna was in anyway shocked by his apparent ultimatum, she didn't let it show. Instead, she seemed to consider what he said for a moment longer before she spoke again. "You know how much I want to be in a frontline unit, sir. I'll do my _best_ not to let you down. I'm sorry I can't promise more than that."

Alvin stared at the woman for an awkwardly long moment, waiting for her to shift nervously under his gaze before he spoke. "I admire your honesty, Breanna. Fair enough."

"As long as nothing too drastic happens, I'll be fine." She added with a slight smile that was strangely reassuring to him and he couldn't help but return the gesture.

"Nothing too drastic . . ." He repeated quietly.

The door to his office slashed open and a barrage of sound poured in immediately. Breanna looked over her shoulder while Alvin rose from his own seat in surprise to confront the commotion that was now spilling into his inner sanctum.

Several things happened in a very short time. The first and most obvious thing was the sound of Lieutenant Adelene Chan's heated protests about something. Second, Corporal Joshua Loke was not far behind her, his apparently quiet demeanor lost as he struggled to make himself heard with the squadron's XO.

All of it seemed to be focused around a slender, familiar-looking lieutenant who wore the qualification insignia of an exo pilot on his tunic. Adelene seemed to be screaming bloody murder and looked ready to lay into the calm-looking intruder with her fists while Corporal Loke was doing everything he could to keep her away short of physically touching her.

He listened for a moment and heard snippets of what was being hollered. His XO was saying something about removing the lieutenant who had the nerve to barge in, while Joshua seemed convinced that Adelene was going to use violent, if not deadly force to do so and for some reason, he seemed to be focused on defending this newly-arrived lieutenant.

As for the lieutenant himself, he was leering at Alvin, looking calm, composed and almost arrogant oblivious to the tiny battle that was going on behind him. There was something awfully familiar about the man, especially that rubber-faced grin, but the Jovian squadron commander couldn't quite place a finger on it and it further frustrated him.

The argument flared even louder and the lieutenant's grin grew wider. Alvin snapped.

"_Quiet_!" His palm came down on his desk with a ringing crack and he winced slightly as the stinging tendrils of pain crept into his abused hand. Only Breanna caught the look on his face, but the sly wink that she flashed in his direction told him that the secret was safe with her. "Damn it, this is the JAF, not some mindless, squabbling rabble! May I remind you that you are not children! Now, explain yourselves! Calmly and clearly, if you'd please."

"I was trying to stop this . . . this _man _from barging into your office . . ." Adelene began, her voice shaking with anger.

"Sir, you don't understand . . ." Joshua Loke piped up.

"Oh, shut up and let me finish, _Corporal_ . . ."

"Sir, you don't . . ."

"Hey, I was talking to _you_! You don't talk to an officer that way!"

And again, the two of them began to bicker. Through the wide-open door to his office, Alvin could see the rest of the squadron glancing in nervously, curious as to the cause of the commotion but not wanting to appear too nosey.

"_Enough_! Both of you!" Alvin roared, his palm slashing down towards the table once more but hovering just short of the surface as he remembered the pain. "One at a time! Adelene, you first! In one sentence, please."

"Alvin, this man," she pointed at the new arrival in the manner one would at an enemy while carrying a loaded weapon. "Insisted on barging in here to see you without permission. This is a severe breach of protocol that . . ."

"I said one sentence, Adelene." Alvin cut her off and turned to Joshua. "Corporal Loke?" He said with just enough emphasis on the man's rank to remind him of his place and stature.

"I know the lieutenant, sir. And I know he means no harm."

"Do you two not understand simple English? I said 'one sentence'." Alvin held up a single finger in front of them both. "One! Do you get it? Well, never mind that now. This lieutenant wants to see me that badly, huh?" Both Adelene and Joshua, sufficiently chastened, nodded wordlessly.

He stared at the man who had the nerve to come marching into his office without the courtesy to even so much as knock. "You wanted to see me? Urgently?" Alvin felt a tingle of fear as he realized that the man was of equal rank. Could it be _his _turn to be relieved of command?

"Ah, Alvin . . . you've not changed much since we last met." The other lieutenant spoke in accented English, his head shaking as he smiled. "Still fiery as ever."

"I'm sorry. You look awfully familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it." Alvin said coldly in an effort to show that he was in no mood to play guessing games or waste time. "Oh, do enlighten me if you will." Alvin saw the edge's of Adelene's mouth twitch upwards slightly as she heard him directing his sarcasm against the intruder.

"Lieutenant Peter Tan, late of the Martian BundesArmee, reporting for duty as ordered." The man replied in an imperious tone that was obviously feigned but it definitely had the old memories flooding back.

"Peter?" Alvin's eyes widened in shock as the recognition finally struck home. "But I don't understand. Last I heard, you were a Hauptmann in the Twelfth _Sturmobergrupen._"

"Hauptmann?" Adelene's eyes went equally wide in shock though Joshua Loke simply nodded.

"It's a crazy world, Alvin." Peter said, reaching to tap his nose and eye his friend conspiratorially. "And last I heard, you were a Captain, bossing the Deathwings."

A look of pain registered on Alvin's face a moment before he could replace it with a fake, wry smile. "Well, as you've said, Pete. It's a crazy world."

"Can someone tell me what the heck is going on here?" Adelene had her hands on her hips, looking very annoyed at being out of the loop. Even her sister, in a rare moment of agreement, looked equally perplexed at the turn of events.

"I'm sorry, people. Would you excuse me and . . . _Lieutenant_ Tan for a moment?"

"But what's going . . ."

"That wasn't a request, Adelene."

"Oh, alright . . ." Adelene sighed, scowled, turned on her heel and left, Breanna and Joshua following after the seething XO of the Olympian Thunderbolts.

"And someone close that door!" Alvin yelled after the three retreating pilots.

"Oh, sorry." Joshua said sheepishly as he turned back at the doorway to thumb the stud that shut the door.

Alvin waited until the door had hissed fully shut before dropping heavily into his seat and letting out a loud sigh. He indicated to the vacant seat in front of his desk. "Sit down, Pete."

"Don't mind if I do, Alv."

"What in the hell did I do to deserve being stuck with an outfit like this?" He sighed and shook his head. "No, don't answer that. I screwed up big time with the Deathwings and I should consider myself lucky to be given a squadron command again at all."

"Gosh, you're all so cheery this morning." Peter remarked dryly.

"With clowns like those in my command, why shouldn't I be?" Alvin replied sardonically. "It's not a squadron. It's a damn circus."

Peter shrugged and panned his head to one side to politely hide his smile.

"What about you, Pete? What the hell are you doing so many million miles away from home? And in a JAF uniform at that?" Alvin asked, forcing himself to think about anything other than the Thunderbolts for the moment. "I don't know how you got that uniform or what's going on. But as far as I'm concerned at this juncture, you're still technically an officer of a belligerent nation."

"Didn't you hear me say that I was late of the _BundesArmee_?"

"But _how_ . . .?"

"I defected, of course." Peter allowed himself another slight smile as he saw the look of horror exploding onto the Jovian squadron commander's face.

"You _what_?"

"I defected. Since you pretty much can't resign and walk out of the _BundesArmee_, you know." Peter explained in a tone normally used when one talked about the weather in a colony cylinder (which never changed unless by popular vote).

"But _why_ . . .?"

Lieutenant Peter Tan's face lost all trace of humor at the utterance of that simple question. The look he fixed Alvin with was cold, unyielding and backed with iron resolve. "Isn't it obvious, my friend?"

"Well, I must confess that I am not particularly observant this morning and I'm still grappling the fact that you're actually here now, in that uniform, sitting before me." Alvin said dryly, shrugging disarmingly. "Perhaps, you'd like to explain to me?"

"Freedom." Peter said. "To escape the blatant tyranny and oppression of my homeland. Do you remember the time when I entertained you as a guest on Mars and how different it was when you received me as a guest here in Olympus?"

"Well, yes, I do. Those were good times."

"Yes, I saw things here that I had grown up not being allowed to even think about. I saw the Confederation thriving on the very things that my government would deny us all in the name of _während der daur der aktuellen krise_ – for the duration of the current crisis." Peter shook his head viciously. "Well, we've been some damn crisis or another ever since the Federation was formed. I knew things were bad, but only after touring the Confederation did I realize just how much of our freedoms my leaders have stripped my people off simply 'for their own good'."

"Well . . . you did mention how stifling it was to live in the Federation. But you never struck me as the sort who would defect . . . more of working to change the system from within."

"Some things cannot be changed from within. Not when your leaders have the right and power to simply make you disappear should they see it fit." The look of pain on Peter's face told Alvin that his Martian friend was speaking from experience. "I had made plans to head for the Free Republic before Kurtzenheim, but when your people came, I figured I'd stand a better chance with Jovians. I crossed the line of no return saving your Corporal Joshua Loke during the Battle."

"I see . . ." Alvin tried to absorb the magnitude of what he was being told. "So our intelligence people have deemed you safe to put on that uniform?"

"Complete with exo qualifications. I know your machines are pretty much ahead of ours, but I'm sure you people can teach an old dog some new tricks." Peter smiled slightly, glad to be changing subjects. "But how have you been all this time?"

"Not all too great. I led the Deathwings flew into a CEGA trap over Mars. I was the only survivor and there was a court martial. It's a minor miracle that I was only reduced to lieutenant. And it's unbelievable that they can still entrust me with a squadron to command." The Jovian exo pilot said bitterly, looking away.

"But you're a solid pilot and a good tactician. They can always use a man of your quality despite all you've done wrong."

"I don't know. You've seen my people. Not exactly first-grade stuff." Alvin shook his head sadly. "And I've got to say that this squadron is simply getting crazier and crazier by the hour. Sometimes, I wonder how much crazier it can get! Say, Pete, how long have you got before you're needed elsewhere?"

Peter looked at his friend with a bemused expression on his face, his lips moving but no sound coming forth.

"What?" Alvin's eyes narrowed into slits.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding, Alvin. Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time. " He reached into his tunic to retrieve the printed plastic sheet that contained his orders. "I'm not here to visit. I'm reporting to the Thunderbolts for active duty."

Alvin's jaw fell wide open and his eyes looked about ready to roll out of their sockets as he accepted the printed sheet.

"So I guess it _does_ get crazier, Alvin." Peter concluded with another one of his trademark grins.


	12. Episode 11: Dramatis Personae

**Forging the Thunderbolt #2**

**Episode 11: _Dramatis Personae_**

_If I accept you as you are, I will make you worse; however if I treat you as though you are what you are capable of becoming, I help you become that._

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe -

**0838 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"I don't like it." Lieutenant Adelene Chan declared as she sat herself down, folding her arms across her chest, her features knotting into an elaborate scowl. "I don't like this one bit."

"What?" Breanna frowned at her sister as she leaned against the wall next to the door that led into the squadron commander's office.

"You heard what Alvin said? That . . . _lieutenant_ . . .!" Adelene sounded as if she was sick and tired of explaining something cosmically simple to a small child. "That's _what_!"

"Well, no one's asking you to like it." Breanna rolled her eyes at her sister's apparent intransigence.

"I mean, you heard what Alvin said! He's a Bundesarmee officer!" Adelene carried on, seemingly oblivious to the remark that her younger sister had just made.

"He's a Hauptmann to be exact." Corporal Joshua Loke offered. "Roughly equivalent to a captain."

"Well, gee, thanks for enlightening us, Corporal." Adelene responded scornfully to the corporal who had stood in her way moments ago. "I'm enlightened, Bre. Are you?"

"Leave me out of this." Breanna said, looking elsewhere.

"Fine. Suit yourself." Adelene shrugged as she returned her gaze to Joshua. "Last I checked, the Feds were our enemies. They were firing at our units during the Kurtzenheim fiasco. I should know. I was _there_."

"Well, so was I," replied the corporal testily. "I was a _Deliverer_ pilot so I know _everything_ about the Feds shooting at us around Kurtzenheim before _Gilgamesh_ hit. And it was Haup . . _Lieutenant_ Peter Tan who saved my life when another Federation pilot was about to finish me off in my crippled exo."

"Well, good for you then! Hallelujah, so now all the Feds are saints." Adelene said caustically. "Maybe we should just give him a medal while we're at it, huh? How does a Golden Nova sound? Grand enough?"

The look on Joshua Loke's face made it clear that the derision had struck something deep inside him – which probably explained why he said what he said next. "Whatever it is, _you_ certainly don't and won't deserve it, ma'am."

Adelene almost rose out of her seat and lunged at the corporal. Even Breanna was stunned by the comment and there was a sharp intake of breath around the ready room by those who were within earshot. But somehow, she managed to maintain some level of coolness and she sat fast. Instead, she managed to speak, channeling all her anger into her words which were already dripping with malice. "Well, of course I won't deserve it. I certainly wouldn't be so unworthy as to deserve anything that he would be getting."

"Hey, Ade . . ." Breanna's surprise had given way to mild frustration. "Can't you just lay off him already?

"I thought you wanted out of this, Bre." Adelene's tone was low and threateningly. "So butt out."

"Oh, _fine_ . . ." Breanna turned up her nose and looked away once more.

"Look . . . ma'am. Can't we just accept the fact that he wants to live a better life in the Confederation and leave it at that?" The exasperation and frustration was evident in Joshua's tone. "I mean, he's already taken quite a huge step crossing over to our side and he's been worked over pretty bad by the JIS. Can't we just cut him a little slack and accept him as he is?

"No, Corporal. I will _not_. He's a turncoat and a traitor." Adelene replied in a manner that could freeze suns. "It takes a rat to desert his comrades. And it takes a special rat to take up arms against his own kind. He's betrayed his 'comrades' once. He can do it again."

Joshua Loke opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as he realized that he didn't really have a good counterargument to challenge the point made by the XO. Breanna looked sympathetically to the man. "Save it, Corporal. She ain't gonna listen at any rate."

"That man will be nothing but trouble, I tell you." The XO was speaking again, this time to everyone in the ready room. "Mark my words! This man . . . this _renegade_, who makes a mockery of our uniform . . . will be the death of us all if we aren't careful."

"Aw, come on, I'm sure he's already been cleared by the JIS." Breanna said soothingly, rolling her eyes at her sister's paranoia.

"You'd think so?" Adelene fixed her sister with a wide-eyed stare. "Do the math, people. It's April now. If he defected at Kurtzenheim, he would have reached us in December. That's three months to interrogate and clear him! I've seen Colonels who take longer to get clearance to breathe a single codeword than it took that traitor took to be accepted into our ranks!"

"Ma'am, I can assure you that the JIS . . ." Joshua began but never got to finish his sentence.

"Your assurances mean nothing to me." Adelene cut the corporal off with a curt gesture. "If anyone of you here thinks it's safe to serve with that German-speaking, fascist . . ."

"Now, now, XO." A familiar voice cut in and a hush fell upon the ready room. "I don't think that sort of language is appropriate in the presence of a fellow officer of equivalent rank."

Adelene stopped and joined the rest of the squadron in gawking at Lieutenant Alvin Ng who stood at the open doorway to his office with Lieutenant Peter Tan by his side. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present Lieutenant Peter Tan. He is an old acquaintance of mine and we met many years ago, back when he still wore to uniform of the Martian Bundesarmee. Well, that has changed now and he's one of us. So I expect you to treat him accordingly."

"You must be joking!" Adelene exclaimed. "Just how are we expected to trust him?"

"He's got all the necessary clearances from the JIS." Alvin answered. "And his appointment to the squadron does have the express approval of General Koudriopoulos."

"Well, I beg your pardon but I believed the General is wrong to trust this man." Adelene said with complete conviction and without a trace of hesitation.

The stunned silence that followed that comment was unprecedented in the squadron's short history. No one even dared to breathe upon hearing such an insult to the judgment and reputation of Gamma Division's commander. Winnie's eyes were so large that they looked ready to roll out of their sockets while James, who had been standing next to her, had warm tea dribbling out the sides of his hanging mouth. Even Breanna was stunned and would have almost fallen from her leaning spot against the wall had Grace not caught her in time.

"Well, we are all entitled to our own opinions." Alvin said smoothly, as if he was the only one not bothered by her comment. Some of the squadron stared at him as if he was spouting something treasonous or heretical. "The General in spite of his reputation is still very much human after all. Capable of making mistakes." He fixed his XO with a steely look. "Just like you and me."

If Adelene had caught the veiled meaning, she didn't let it show. "So is your new best friend going to take over as squadron commander or executive officer? Oh, well, either way, I take it that I'm going to be bumped out of my position." There was an edge of bitterness in her resigned tone. "Well, go on then. Let's get this over and done with quick."

"You're not going anywhere, Lieutenant." Alvin told her sharply. "So don't even think you can get yourself out of that XO post of yours so easily."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Neither you or I are being replaced." The squadron leader said in a deathly serious tone.

"But I thought . . ."

"No, XO. You _weren't_ thinking." The cold, cutting manner in which Alvin spoke made even Breanna wince at her sister's plight. "Because if you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

Adelene looked as if she had just been slapped and she opened her mouth to spew out an angry barrage of protest but Alvin was apparently having none of them, cutting her off by holding up his palm.

"Save it, Adelene. Lieutenant Peter Tan's staying, like it or not." Alvin's tone made it clear to the squadron that the former would have been the preferred attitude to adopt towards its newest member. He looked to Winnie and watched her squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. "You are lucky, Winnie. Damn lucky."

"S-Sir?"

"I've spoken with Peter and he is willing to take over the post as flight leader."

"R-Really?" Winnie's eyes were wide in surprise, quite unable to believe that her salvation had arrived so soon. "I mean, of course, sir. Thank you, sir."

"_What_?" Adelene exploded, her face twisted in shock and disbelief. "You're going to let _him_ command a flight?"

"Well, he certainly has the seniority for it." Alvin replied without any hesitation. "As you've pointed out, he could easily have come here to take over you or me."

"But what about Winnie?" Adelene's opposition was loud and clear and Winnie seemed somewhat surprised that the former squadron commander was suddenly rooting for her.

"What about her?"

"Why can't she do it? I mean, she's . . ."

"Jovian. Yes, I know. But she doesn't want the job." Alvin noticed Winnie hanging her head in shame as he made that fact known to everyone. "However, she'll be serving in my flight until such a time she's ready to assume command of her own."

"But who . . .?" Adelene didn't get to finish, Alvin already anticipating her question and preempting her before she could finish speaking.

"Corporal Loke, Private Cheah. Lieutenant Tan will be your flight leader. Any problems with that?"

"None at all, sir." Joshua replied eagerly, slipping the XO a savage look of glee as he accepted the assignment.

"And yourself?" Alvin asked as he turned to John.

"Sir, no, sir!" John said loudly but stiffly. "No problems with that."

"Good!" Alvin said, nodding viciously. "Outstanding! I'm glad _some_ people can put aside their prejudices."

"Sir, that'd put me with you and Winnie, wouldn't it?" Breanna asked tentatively.

"You have a problem with that, Private?"

Breanna flashed a feline smile that told him all he needed to know. "None at all." She too took the opportunity to glance back at her sister with a slight look of triumph. "Yay, I get to fly in the Command Flight!"

And that last comment seemed to have really stirred up something inside Adelene. Alvin was vaguely aware that Winnie and Adelene hadn't got along too well prior to his arrival and nothing further needed to be said of the XO's relations with her younger sister. So to have both women in his flight, the command flight, was probably an insult that Adelene took very, very personally. A quick glance at his XO told him that she was absolutely livid, her entire body shaking as she smoldered with hatred that could not be concealed.

But Alvin knew that as squadron commander, his job was not to be liked by his people, merely respected and obeyed. So he met his XO's penetrating stare with a blazing hot stare of his own, his eyes holding hers even as he spoke. "Lieutenant Tan is a fine exo pilot and he's here to stay. So get used to it."

Adelene's fury continued to burn and her eyes were as black as coals, as they stared down at each other. Realizing that could be no true winner, he broke contact first, turning to point at Peter's collar. "And as long as he wears that insignia, all of you _will_ accord him the proper respect that his rank demands, regardless of his former nationality. Is that clear?"

Most of the pilots winced as his hot rage washed over them like a wave. Many of them nodded wordlessly though a few managed to verbalize their responses in the affirmative. Satisfied that his people were all sufficiently warned about his stand on the matter, Alvin decided it was best to get on with business. "Corporal Loke?"

"Yes, sir?"

"In my office. Now."

**0844 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Whoa, that was close." James Wong said in the silence some seconds after Joshua had vanished into the office after their incensed commander and the hatch slid blessedly shut behind them.

"Yeah, that was pretty scary." Grace Fong exhaled slowly.

"Well, at least it's over." John grinned sheepishly at her. "For now, at least."

"This is obviously all _your _fault." Adelene pointed an accusing finger at the Martian officer. "Well, just so you remember, we are all of equivalent rank. So don't think you can use your friendship with Alvin to get what you want."

"On the contrary, you are the XO and he is the CO of this unit." Peter replied calmly in his clipped accent. "You are both senior to me despite our similarity in rank."

Adelene seemed slightly taken aback by that unexpected response but she quickly hardened her features before he could say anything further. "Well, just so you _don't_ forget it then." And without giving him a chance to respond or waiting to watch his reaction, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the ready room.

"Did I say something wrong?" Peter asked, looking around at the rest of the squadron who were very obviously relieved that they were free of their fiery CO and their belligerent XO for now. The lithe, agile-looking woman who had been in the office with Alvin before he had entered, spoke.

"Congratulations, sir." Her dark, aquiline features gave way to a very slight grin and her voice radiated with more amusement than sarcasm. "You've just met . . . and pissed off Lieutenant Adelene Chan. The squadron's XO and . . . my sister . . . unfortunately."

"You make it sound like it's no great loss to me." The newly-arrived lieutenant said, looking at the Jovian private in mild surprise.

"It isn't. And well, it shouldn't be, sir." She smiled tentatively and extended her hand. "Private Breanna Chan."

"Haupt . . . I mean, Lieutenant Peter Tan," he replied, grasping her hand in his.

"Relax, sir. You're not in the Martian Federation anymore." Another voice chimed in and the former Bundesarmee officer turned to see two equally short privates, wearing the insignia of Jovian interceptor pilots, grinning at him. "Hi, I'm Candice. And my buddy's Adora. And we've never met a Martian before . . ."

**0853 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Well, sir, that's pretty much how I met up with the lieutenant, sir." Joshua said with a note of finality in his tone.

The squadron leader looked at the corporal from behind his desk for a long, silent moment before the younger man flinched under that penetrating gaze. "It's a small solar system after all, isn't it?"

"I guess so, sir."

"Though something tells me that our assignments here are more than just fortuitous." It was Alvin's turn to look away. "Nevertheless, regardless of your connection to the man, I still expect you to conduct yourself as a soldier of the Jovian Armed Forces."

"Sir?" Corporal Loke stared innocently at his commander.

"What you did just now." Alvin explained, granting the enlisted man the benefit of a doubt. "I don't expect to see you doing it again. Regardless of what you may feel, Lieutenant Chan is still your superior and XO of this squadron. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." Joshua replied stiffly. "It won't happen again, sir."

"Lieutenant Tan is a grown man and damn good exo pilot." Alvin went on, seemingly unconvinced by Joshua's response. "He doesn't need you to defend him."

"Yes, sir." Joshua's replied through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I know you are." Alvin turned back to fix the pilot with a steely cold gaze. "Because if I had any reason to even suspect otherwise, you'd already be out of this squadron."

Joshua looked somewhat stunned by the vehemence of his superior's tone but wisely chose to remain silent. He chalked it up to the man still being angry at the argument with Adelene not too long ago.

"You've got the guts to stand up for your buddies. That's a damn good thing, Corporal. I like that." Alvin nodded approvingly. "But this is still a military unit and we've got to observe protocols and chains of command."

"I understand, sir." Joshua shifted nervously, looking down at the deck in shame.

"You're a veteran now, Corporal." Alvin allowed his lips to come together in a razor thin smile. "So start acting like one cos all those fresh privates and maybe even the green officers will be looking up to you. Don't screw it up."

"Yes, sir." Joshua nodded, glad that the reprimand seemed to be coming to an end. "I won't let you down, sir."

"Very well. Dismissed, Corporal." Alvin nodded.

"Yes, sir." Joshua snapped to attention and wheeled smartly on his heel before taking measured steps towards the door.

"Oh, and one more thing, Corporal . . ." The commander's voice reached out just before Joshua got to the hatch.

"Sir?" The younger man turned around, raising his brows inquiringly.

"Appended to your dossier is a report . . . by the JIS."

"What about it, sir?" Joshua's eyes suddenly narrowed, his features stony and expressionless.

"It's a security addendum with regards to what happened on Mars." Alvin said slowly, revealing none of his own emotions while trying to gauge Corporal Loke's response. "It states that while there was no further evidence to detain you any longer, you should be monitored carefully as you may present a security risk."

The enlisted exo pilot blinked exactly twice in astonishment. It wasn't the fact that such a report existed that surprised him, but the fact that Alvin had bothered to mention it to him. It wasn't normal to tell someone that he or she was deemed as a security risk and thus under observation.

"I see . . ." Joshua said, barely recovering from his shock. "Sir . . . _why_ are you telling me this?"

Alvin studied the other man for a moment, letting him sweat for a bit before he answered. "You are deemed to be a security risk because of your association with Peter Tan."

"I guess that was to be expected." Joshua shrugged and sighed in a resigned tone.

"Well, I happen to disagree with this report." Alvin made a big show of frowning. "As far as I'm concerned, Peter Tan can be trusted. And the man who helped bring him over shouldn't come under suspicion for what he did."

It took a few seconds for those words to sink into Joshua Loke's mind. When he had absorbed their meaning and made sense out of what he had heard, his face brightened up despite his best efforts not to grin idiotically.

"Thank you, sir!" He said gratefully. "I really appreciate it."

"Well, you'd better." The squadron leader said with mock fierceness and a touch of dry humor. "Cos if it turns out you really are a traitor, the JIS would probably shoot me for my negligence. Not before I come shoot you before they can hang you or whatever. Now get out . . . and tell Officer Wong that it's his turn, if you'd please."

"Yes, sir!"

**0906 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Officer James Wong asked as the door slid shut behind him and he took the next tentative step deeper into the squadron leader's office.

Lieutenant Alvin Ng didn't look up from his desk. In fact, he didn't even respond to James' arrival in any perceptible way. The freshly-minted officer paused in mid-step and stared at the figure who was bent over his desk, seemingly studying something intently.

He cleared his throat, but on seeing that he still had not managed to illicit a response, James stepped right up to a spot directly in front of the desk. He came to attention and tried again, "Um, sir . . . I asked if you wanted to see me . . . sir?"

"Are you asking me to report my intentions to you?" The Lieutenant asked in a voice that was so quiet, it was barely audible. But for James who heard it, the words were every bit as scary as the squadron commander had intended for them to be.

James blanched and stiffened, managing a strangled, "I'm sorry, sir. Officer James Wong, reporting as ordered, sir."

"Very well. At ease." Alvin waved him towards the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

James sat. "Sir, my apologies if I have offended you in any . . ."

"Your commander is just having a bad day." Alvin sighed as he worked on the keyboard in front of him, still avoiding eye contact with his latest interviewee.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I understand what you mean, sir." James offered.

"Do you now?" Alvin didn't quite whirl on the younger officer but the effect was the same. James had practically jumped backwards in his seat as he tried to get as faraway as possible without leaping out of his seat. "Do you _really_ understand what kind of day this is turning out to be?"

"Well . . ." James swallowed, still unable to peel his spine off the backrest of his seat. "I-I guess not . . . sir."

"Then keep your mouth shut and don't offer anything unless you have something useful to say next time, Wong." The squadron leader said brusquely, still holding the junior officer's gaze. "You haven't done much for your standing with me by being late for my briefing so don't mess it up now by talking unnecessarily, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"It says here that you've attended FSTRIKE." Alvin said as he consulted the man's personal records. "Quite an exceptional career move, considering that this is only your second squadron deployment."

"Well, sir, I guess I had the potential." James noted the sharp look that Alvin shot him and quickly added, "I mean, that's what my former squadron commander thought. He did put up a hell of a fight to get me to Fallon following my stint with the Schwarzwald Defense Squadron."

"I know. Lieutenant Simms served under me back aboard the _Godsfire_." Alvin nodded, smiling slightly at the memory. "It seems that he thought very highly of you."

"Oh, really? I mean, oh . . . wow." James' eyes widened in surprise. Alvin wasn't too sure which had surprised the young man more. The fact that he had known Simms, or the fact that Simms thought highly of him despite having called the younger officer a 'character' and some other less-pleasant things on occasion. "He's a good leader, sir."

"Far too good to be stuck commanding a colony defense squadron now that we're at war." Alvin remarked somewhat bitterly.

"Well, sir, last I heard, he was due to post out not too long after I did." James shared. "CO of the Flying Tempests aboard the JSS _Flame_, with an accelerated promotion to Captain."

That seemed to give Alvin pause for almost a moment, as he absorbed that tidbit of information. Then he allowed James to see him smile for a brief moment. "Well, he deserves it alright."

"He does, sir."

"Well, back to business." Alvin said as his smile faded.

"Definitely, sir."

"You're qualified on both the IM-05 _Intruder _and IM-09 _Lancer_, particularly the Bomber version." The squadron leader said, perusing the man's service record as if for the first time.

"That's right, sir. My training placed equal emphasis on flying fighter strike missions as well as target designation missions." James explained. "I guess you can say I'm pretty handy with the target designator aboard the _Intruder_."

"That remains to be seen, Officer."

"Of course, sir."

"There is another issue that I'd like to discuss."

"Go ahead, sir."

"Lieutenant Simms made mention, and I have seen it for myself now, your lack of punctuality. Would you care to comment?"

James' eyes went wide with shock as he stammered. "Uh, well, sir . . . um . . ."

**0912 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"I don't mean any offence, Candice. But what's a person like you doing in the JAF?" Alvin shot the pilot in front of him a very quizzical look.

"Sir, I'm not all too sure that I understand your question, sir." Private Candice Ye looked up at him with those bright, twinkling eyes.

"I mean, your temperament is . . . how shall I say . . . not quite what one would expect of an interceptor pilot." The lieutenant said carefully. "I guess to be honest, I'd say you're rather . . ."

"Hyper?" Candice asked, fixing him with a huge grin as she leaned over the desk to fix him with a wide-eyed stare. "Crazy?"

Alvin shrugged eloquently. "Your words, not mine. But I guess you could say it's something like that. Not that it's in a bad way . . ."

"It's ok, sir." She assured him cheerily. "All of my friends tell me that!"

"I see . . ." Alvin nodded slowly in understanding as he leaned back in his chair, his hands forming a steeple in front of him. "And that doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?" Candice replied chirpily, her smile still firmly in place.

"I guess not." Again the lieutenant shrugged, before changing subjects. "But I guess that still doesn't answer my question. Why sign up with the JAF?"

"Guess it seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Candice answered, then noted the look on Alvin's face and knew it wouldn't suffice in quenching her superior's curiosity. "After the Battle of Elysée, I figured the Confederation wouldn't be remaining neutral forever."

"Turns out you were right in the end." Alvin observed soberly.

The smile on Candice's face faded slightly. "I knew I wanted to something more than just watch from the sidelines. Right after Elysée, I just _knew_ I had to do _something_."

"I know what you mean" Alvin nodded in agreement. "Lots of people did the same thing."

Most of the neophyte pilots and ship's crew who had reached the fleet before the Mars peacekeeping mission had been those who had enlisted in the aftermath of the Battle of Elysée where the CEGA had made it blatantly clear that the fragile peace that the Solar System had enjoyed for so long would not last forever. Many more of these 'Elysée Enlistees' would arrive to replenish the JAF's recent losses in the months to come but Alvin was sure that it was only the foreshadowing of the deluge of young men and women who were enlisting now that the Confederation was officially at war with Earth forces.

It would be a at least a year before these new recruits would begin arriving in the frontlines, to flesh out new units for the expansion of the JAF. But in his heart, Alvin knew that many more would be arriving to replace the inevitable losses that would be sustained in the coming months. And if he had thought Kurtzenheim was bad for the Confederation . . .

"May I ask you a question, sir?" Candice's voice broke into his reverie and he looked up to see her watching him inquisitively.

"Well . . ." Alvin frowned momentarily. "That would be most irregular."

"Then it's ok, sir. For . . ."

"However," Alvin held up a finger to interrupt her in mid-sentence. "I've already given up all hope of you being a regular person. So fire away, Candice."

They exchanged slight grins before Candice spoke. "You don't have to answer it if you think it's too personal or if you simply don't want to, alright, sir?"

"Never crossed my mind to do otherwise."

"Sir, there's been some talk about what happened during the Kurtzenheim."

"What kind of talk?" Alvin's face grew very still and his attempt at polite, keen interest came out sounding forced.

"Sir, some people say you led your squadron into a trap. Some said you stayed on even though the situation was hopeless. Well . . . I guess you have a sort of reputation for being . . . well, I don't know, sir." Candice faltered under the very intent gaze of her commander. "Crap, I don't think I should be asking this."

"You've already come so far, Candice. It's ok." Alvin spoke flatly. "I take it that I have a reputation for being a bloodthirsty incompetent?"

"Well, sir . . . not exactly in those words . . ."

"It's ok, Candice. I understand. The truth of the matter was that I did lead the Deathwings into a trap. We were subsequently ambushed by returning exo armors so we didn't stand much of a chance of escape." Alvin explained slowly, never breaking eye contact with Candice. "There was no real opportunity to escape, hence the common idea that I kept the squadron fighting in a hopeless situation. Even when reinforcements arrived, I was still shot down."

"I see, sir."

"I understand that the various media reports on my case were somewhat confusing and conflicting. But I think the _official_ version of the truth, along with transcripts of the court martial proceedings, should be out in a couple of years time." He flashed an ironic, razor-thin smile. "Of course, I've yet to address the matter that should concern you most."

"Sir?"

"That of my reputation." Alvin fixed her with a long gaze that made her flinch slightly. Again, he let slip a small grin. "No, Candice. I don't think the brass would ever let a bloodthirsty incompetent command a squadron."

For a moment, Candice simply stared back at him with large, round eyes. She blinked exactly twice before she managed to recover, an genuine laugh escaping from within her. "Oh, sir. _That_ is such a relief!"

**0918 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"There's no real need to be nervous, Grace." John was telling the petite interceptor pilot soothingly. "Really, it's no big deal."

"Well, you weren't exactly all _that_ calm before you went in." Private Grace Fong pointed out in that angelic voice of hers. Beneath the worried look on her face, John could see a specter of a smile.

"Woohoo, way to go, John!" Breanna called out from a nearby seat where she was chatting with the Martian lieutenant. "Talk about crash and burn."

"Haha, very funny, Bre." John shot back sardonically, though his features were flushing red. "Well, Grace . . . it's really not that scary . . ."

"Really?" Grace looked at him with those large inquisitive eyes. Again he caught traces of that playful look on her face and he frowned slightly in puzzlement. "So why did it look like we had to peel you off the ceiling after Lieutenant Ng came roaring out of his office?" _Too late_, John felt like kicking himself.

"That's a really good point, Grace." Breanna was grinning. "Really, John, we'd like to know the answer to that."

"Hey, you people were scared when the Boss came out shouting too, alright?" John growled. "So I wasn't the only one was got shaken up by the 'Clash of the Titans', yeah?"

"Well, we didn't say we weren't scared, John." Breanna explained in a tone that was normally reserved for explaining things to a child who wasn't particularly bright. "We're simply wondering why you're telling Grace that there's no real need to be nervous."

John opened his mouth to reply, but no words came forth. He turned to Grace who was watching him with equal amusement. Even though she said nothing, there was simply something in her eyes that convey her intense delight at his plight.

His jaw mouth wordlessly for a few more seconds and his gaze alternated between Breanna who was smirking triumphantly and Grace who was trying to look away politely to conceal her own smile.

"I think your friend has got you there." Grace said mildly, seemingly embarrassed at the fact that she was being amused at John's expense.

"That's if I can still call her a friend." John grumbled, glaring at Breanna with a look of fierceness of which he only felt a fraction of.

"Aw, come on, John . . ." Breanna shook her head in feigned disbelief. "Be a gentleman and just admit you've lost, won't you?"

"Oh, fine . . ." John threw his arms up in exasperation. "You win, you win. I think I'm going to go get something to eat!"

"Yay!" Breanna beamed victoriously at John's admission of defeat and watched him leave. "Don't eat too much. Won't want you to ruin your physique. Someone may not like it!"

She saw John bristle slightly at that comment before he stepped out of the ready room. Then Breanna turned and slipped a wink to an uncomprehending Grace Fong.

**0926 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Anything else you'd like to tell me before you go?" The lieutenant asked, dropping the edge of formality in his tone.

"Well, sir . . ." Private Adora Cheong shifted nervously in her seat and flashed one of her radiant smiles that Alvin was becoming accustomed to. It was her way of telling people she had come across a rather touchy subject which she wasn't sure on how it should be approached. "About yesterday . . ."

"What about it?"

"I'm sorry I called you a psychotic glory-seeker back aboard the shuttle." She still had that pleasant, disarming smile on her face though he could sense her discomfort at having to mention that incident. "I really hadn't meant it."

"Well, to split hairs, you didn't actually call me a 'psychotic glory-seeker' or any of its variants." The squadron leader said by way of correction. "After all, you had not known who I was at the time. And I was technically eavesdropping."

"Ah," Adora relaxed slightly and her smile gave way to a short burst of laughter. "I was talking rather loudly so I'm sure I can forgive you for that, sir."

"I didn't ask for your forgiveness, Private." He said in a flat, emotionless tone and with a straight, unsmiling face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir . . . I didn't mean . . ."

It was Alvin's turn to laugh. "It's ok, Private. All is forgiven. I was just kidding."

"Oh?" Adora shot him one of her clueless looks and it took almost all of his self-control not to groan at her naivety. "Really?"

"Yes, Adora. I was just kidding." He shook his head. "Dismissed then. And do call Private Fong in after you."

"Yes, sir." The petite private with the complexion of dark honey showed him another radiant white smile, and practically skipped out of his office.

"Heavens," Alvin muttered to himself. "We're sending out children now."

**0928 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

"Private Grace Fong, reporting as ordered, sir!" Despite her diminutive build and apparent frailty, there was still a very distinct snap to the way the interceptor pilot game to attention in front of his desk.

"Ah, yes. Please, do take a seat." He had already reviewed the woman's record and he had liked what he had seen.

"Yes, sir!"

"Oh, and do relax, Grace." He told her reassuringly. "Please."

"Yes, sir." The tone was the same, she simply hadn't snapped in the manner that a fresh recruit would to a menacing instructor.

"Really, Grace. _Relax_. You're not in Basic anymore. And I'm not going to eat you alive or anything." He nodded when she smiled back weakly at him.

"First off, I must say I'm pretty impressed at what I've seen in your service record. " He told her with genuine admiration. "You were offered a shot at OTS _twice_. Once right after Basic and the second time upon completion of your conversion to _Lancers_."

"That's correct, sir." Even though the earlier crispness was absent, there was still a touch of grave formality in the sweet voice with which she replied. Alvin decided that it was as relaxed as she was ever going to be . . . at least for this interview.

"And it also says you turned down the offers _twice_." Alvin continued with his admiration replaced by puzzlement. "Why?"

"This first time round, I wasn't sure that I was ready, sir. You see, I wanted to pick my line of service before I started officer training, sir."

"I know what you mean, Grace. I was an exo armor sergeant before I went to OTS." The JAF had always been an all-volunteer organization and recruits did have some freedom in deciding the arm of service that they wanted to be in since most of them were there to make their careers. Of course, it was always easier for a Private fresh out of Basic Training to choose his or her line of service than for an expensively trained (and consequently more precious) officer to do so.

"And the second time?"

"I was about to say 'yes' when war broke out." Grace explained.

"And you requested a combat posting so you could get into action sooner?"

"I know it sounds clichéd, sir. But yes, that's essentially it." Grace's reply was sheepish this time.

"You're not concerned about how this might affect your career prospects?" Alvin regretted those words almost as soon as they had left his mouth. Grace looked hurt that he had even implied that her focus was on her career.

"Well, sir I won't have much of a career if this war goes on and I'm dead. Besides, combat experience was never a bad thing to have on one's record." When Grace spoke, there was no hint of anger or hurt. In fact, she was speaking in a disturbingly ethereal and detached tone that worried Alvin somewhat. "And I've studied your career too, sir. If you can hit Captain so quickly even though you had a supposedly late start, I'm sure I can too."

Alvin squinted at the woman who sat across him, scanning that neutral face for any sign of sycophancy or flattery. Her large red lips were pursed and her eyes were open but unrevealing. He knew at once there was more to this petite interceptor pilot than had initially met his eye. Satisfied that she had been totally honest in her opinion, he nodded slowly to signify his understanding.

"I know exactly what you mean, Grace." Alvin said after a short pause. "And no, I don't believe you're here to get your ticket punched before moving up the ranks."

"Thank you, sir."

"Still, tell me more about your plans for the future if you will . . ."

**0937 HOURS – 05 APRIL, 2214**

The talk with Grace had been a pleasant one, and he had scheduled her on the assumption that talking to her would be a soothing experience before he tackled the last two people on his list.

He was right.

The relative silence following Grace's dismissal was broken as the door slid open. He forced himself to wait until the visitor had come to a stop in front of his desk before he looked up to face the man. He hadn't changed. Even after the passage of the years, he was exactly the same.

"Ryan Tan."

"Alvin Ng."

"You will address me as 'sir', _Sergeant_." Alvin snapped without a trace of humor in his tone. "I don't know how you got that stripe back, but believe me when I tell you I'll make you lose it if you ever give me a good reason to."

"You just can't get over it can you . . . sir." Ryan shook his head in disgust. "It still bothers you that you 'only' managed to reduce me to Corporal."

"For striking a superior officer? You ought to have been discharged outright for that. Or faced detention at the very least!"

"Hey, that Simms fella had it coming to him . . ."

"That will be _Lieutenant _Simms to you, _Sergeant_!"

"What's the obsession with rank . . . sir?" Ryan asked maliciously. "Still steamed over the fact that you lost a bar yourself? Guess that ought to give you an idea about how I felt."

"Well, I didn't assault a senior officer." Alvin pointed out viciously to the Sergeant.

"No, you just got your entire squadron killed." Ryan shot back and smiled with satisfaction as he saw that his comment had _hurt_.

Alvin remained silent for a long moment, allowing his anger to simmer. He waited till Ryan was about to follow up on his 'victory' before cutting him off.

"You're right, Sergeant." Alvin allowed a sadistic sneer to crease his features. "And rest assured, I won't be hesitating in getting you killed in this war if I can't demote you or get rid of you."


End file.
